Fables
by Whimsical Acumen
Summary: Elsa's overworked, Jack's avoiding responsibilities, Jim is coping, Silver is an ex-criminal-now-sheriff, Tiana's avoiding her ex, the Seventh Floor is self-serving, the Investigative Crew is in shambles, and Stitch has yet again eaten everyone's left shoe. At least Elsa has Kronk's brownies to hold her over until the next catastrophe. Welcome to Fabletown.
1. I Don't Like Mondays

**Pairings:** For the most part canon. Eventual Jelsa, but beforehand there will possibly be others.

 **Rating:** R/M because people are dying so censorship is a much lesser issue of debate

 **Disclaimer:** Send your appreciation and respect to the minds of Disney, DreamWorks, Bluth, and pretty much any animation company that is not me. The original concept of this story is not mine: Fables belongs to DC/Vertigo Comics. I'm simply reinterpreting a pre-existing story, like pretty much everyone else on this website. Song and lyrics, "I Don't Like Mondays," is by The Boomtown Rats.

 **Thanks:** To SashaWren and IGdude117 because my writing is by no means perfect and there's always something to improve. Seriously, give them major props and thank you's.

Cheers

Chapter 1 – "In Which Elsa Hides Behind Her Handkerchief"

or

"I Don't Like Mondays"

Once upon a time dozens of worlds were in existence. Within these worlds lived great heroes, heroines, princes, princesses, dragons, villains, sorcerers; more magic than one person could imagine. These worlds were so busy with themselves, that they paid no heed when one day, the Land of the Lions fell to a dark power. Most were completely unaware, but those with powers that traveled through space and time noticed but did nothing.

After all, these problems were the responsibility of others.

One world fell after another, and only those who were lucky enough to have the means to find passage to other worlds continued to safety. By the time their cries were loud enough to be taken with serious consideration, the Great Conqueror had seized control of almost all worlds.

Desperate, the most powerful and adept of magical beings pooled their resources together to find a world untouched by the Great Conqueror. One such place remained removed from the Great Conqueror's grasp and they managed to shepherd refugees from hundreds of worlds to Earth. At first fear gripped the refugees: what was stopping the Great Conqueror from taking over this world? Yet the immigrants quickly realized that there was something different about this world: there was no magic. The inhabitants had no access to real magical study, animals could not talk, and all of the natural energy used for incantation was virtually untouched. They realized that this world was so _mundane_ that it was less an issue of the Great Conqueror not able to gain control, and more of him having little interest. With that realization, the magic users who would eventually make up Floor Seven, or the Seventh Floor, were able to stake protective barriers around the new world to create a comfortable, temporary stronghold until the time these pilgrims could return home.

With new determination and a sliver of hope, these foreigners came to create a base, a town within the city of Boston, Massachusetts located in North America. They called it Fabletown, named after discovering for unknown reasons, interpretations of these magical beings' stories, sometimes called _fables_ , seemed to carry over to the original inhabitants of this planet. As centuries passed, sister towns cropped up to make space and maintain portals that allowed entry to this world. Fabletown, however, continued as the parent beacon of power and order, and is thus where this narrative begins.

Given the hundreds, by this point thousands, of Fables that have found their way into this mundane place, governments had to be created to keep order, peace, and their secret safe from the rest of the world. One such Fable who was nominated to take great responsibility in the created government, was the reluctant Queen Elsa, nominated as one of the few women who actually had training and practice in running a country.

Originally Elsa had intended to keep to the Farm a great plot of land located in Maine. It was designated for talking animals and other such creatures and magical beings that could not coexist with the Natives without raising alarm. Elsa herself was a powerful, magical being who if her feelings went unchecked, could bring an ice age to the entirety of the planet. Given the safety net The Farm provided, and she wanted to keep company with her companion Olaf who was simply too conspicuous to reside anywhere else, it was her preference. However, once her experience was recognized as a necessity, she steeled herself into resignation, and found herself placed first in position of official Event Coordinator, and then, through a series of events, took the job Deputy Mayor of Fabletown.

One such role of Deputy Mayor was to keep order; to maintain their secrets from the Mundane World, which manifested itself from time to time as listening to the problems of Fabletown citizens. Adjusting to a new culture could be difficult, and having to suppress one's magical abilities or hide them all together was a habit that even after three centuries could prove difficult for any Fable. Which was why she was currently seated with growing frustration as the entitled bickering of Beast and Belle truly begun to hit her last nerve.

"I understand the current costs of a Glamour, but is there no way to bring it down? He's not a beast all the time." Belle implored.

The two women took a moment to eye the man at the brunette's side, his normally handsome features distorted as short horns protruded from his forehead, his jaw seemingly too large for his face, and brown hair thickening beyond what was humanly acceptable across his skin. The scowl on the semi-monster's face deepened considerably under their silent scrutiny.

Elsa exhaled for an attempt at a meditative breath. Balancing role of profession with friendship was trying. "Yes, but as I have stated in the past, Belle, it's out of my control. I'm sorry, but if the Seventh Floor is not willing to make a deal, it is not for me to intervene—"

"But we can't afford a Glamour," Belle pleaded and Elsa felt sorry. "You know we weren't able to escape with our fortune and –"

"You're da one who if Depudy Mayor," Beast half shouted, and he probably would have raised his voice even more if not for the fact that it hurt him to open his mouth since his teeth were currently too big. "Do fomefhing!"

"Beast!" Belle hissed.

A younger Elsa would have flinched under the intimidating man's glare and growls, but given the experiences she had endured and the number of centuries she had lived, it would take more than an active pouter to make her react. One does not escape from the clutches of the Great Conqueror without a backbone.

Instead, she clasped her gloved hands together, leaned further over her desk, mindful not to crumple the documents beneath her bosom, and stated calmly, "If you really want me to do something, I can simply have you escorted to the Farm." The couple's jaws dropped collectively at that option. She continued as if she did not notice, "There your transformation will not risk the Fable population and the issue of paying for a Glamour spell will be nonexistent."

Belle's lip trembled and Elsa almost apologized, remembering that Belle and Beast were normally friends when not seated on the opposite side of her desk.

"But Elsa, that's not—!"

"Thair!" Beast cut off Belle, taking his turn to lean over Elsa's desk. "Id's not my fauld I've durned indo dis dhing! Id's her fauld!" He jabbed a large hand, which that was steadily growing claws, in Belle's direction, and the woman in question had the dignity to look infuriated.

"My fault? Beast, if you would just control your temper…"

"I wouldn'd have a temper in de firsd place if every dime you became upsed, I durned indo thif!"

"Beast, I am trying, but you do these things and I, I feel the way I feel!"

"Enough!" The temperature in the room dropped, and the two guests had the intelligence, if not instinct, to bring their argument to a halt. "I'm sorry, I really am, but this is a government office, not a space where I listen to people fight!" Elsa lowered her voice as she stood, speaking more gently. "I understand your frustration regarding how this curse has developed, but in reality, the issue of greater importance is our secrecy from the Natives. You two need to get your act together or ... we'll intervene, and you won't like the decision we make for you."

The couple stood as well, but Belle's anger was now directed toward Elsa. "That's easy for you to say! You've never been married, so how can you possibly understand the difficulties of maintaining a relationship? We've been together for centuries – longer than any normal person would expect to be committed – and your last engagement ended up frozen! So don't tell us –!"

"And Elsa's time is up." Jack Frost, a lean figure whose white hair stood in stark contrast to the bright orange jumpsuit he was required to wear, sauntered between the couple and deputy, wielding his dirty mop both as a staff and barrier. Elsa was almost relieved that he decided to intervene – he was pretty good about his timing.

"Funny," he said and scratched his head as he peered around dramatically. "That rabbit is usually neurotic about keeping everyone on schedule, but since he isn't here it's my duty to say scoot." His youthful features seemed all the younger with the impish grin he adorned as he prodded at Beast using the handle of his mop. Beast took a step or two back to avoid the touch. Belle in turn seemed to have calmed enough to be quite apologetic for her outburst. Elsa dipped her head to hide the genuine hurt on her face.

"Elsa, I shouldn't –"

Jack shifted so he blocked Belle from Elsa's view. "Yeah," his shoulders sagged dramatically as if he were the one with reason to look forlorn. "I would say bringing up painful memories of someone you're supposed to call friend isn't really something you should do, either." Jack perked up and with a playful tone that lightly concealed his seriousness, continued, "But you did, and regardless of whether or not you realize you were wrong, it's time to go." With each pause Jack prodded at the couple so that by the end of his sentence, they were in the doorway.

Beast glared at Jack quite ferociously. "I fwear, if you douch me widh thad one more dime..."

The man of frost adopted a smile that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame, and with great speed and dexterity, and a combination of magic and a millennia or two of practice, he spun the mop around in his hands and jousted the dirty end of the tool in the prince's face with enough force to knock him through the doorway and onto the floor a good ten feet from where he previously stood. In the moment it took for Beast to get his bearings, Jack had much more gently, yet just as quickly nudged Belle through the door.

A pause fell as Beast and Jack locked eyes.

"Jack!" Beast roared.

The man in question wiggled his fingers—"Toodles,"—and slammed the door shut.

"Man." Jack turned back to face Elsa with a chuckle. "How you managed to keep your face straight when listening to _Sunshine_ there – I bow to your superior sense of self control." And he bent low at the waist, using the mop for balance.

Elsa offered a small, guilty smiled behind her hand and shook her head. He wasn't wrong, but Beast also appeared to be in physical pain so it would have been callous for her to find enjoyment in his struggle. "I feel sorry for them." She had sobered from her visible amusement as he straightened, partly to maintain a certain level of professionalism and partly because she recalled Belle's words. She opted to use one hand to prop herself up against her desk, and the other to massage her temple. "And thank you for intervening, but that was technically … inappropriate. This is a public forum where Fables are allowed to make pleas for aid, even if they are," she paused to choose the right word. "Inconsiderate."

The winter spirit shifted on the balls of his feet. Elsa couldn't recall a time when he ever let himself be completely still. "Aw, Your Majesty, that was funny and you know it."

Elsa opened her eyes as she pursed her lips. "Your role is of janitorial community service, not inflammatory bouncer."

Jack smirked. "Hey, I'd say making things chill is more my thing." She scowled. "Okay, okay." Jack scratched his stomach through his bright orange jumpsuit. "But Beast was asking for it – and founded fo f'upid." He mimicked Beast's speech impediment as he strolled toward the Snow Queen. "And what? You're okay with letting people talk to you like that? If so next time I'll keep my mouth shut." No he won't.

Elsa was no longer listening, mumbling, "I should talk to Belle later…" She truly felt for Belle, but she simply could not play favorites. And Belle did cross a line. Elsa had received plenty of criticism already for the help she provided Anna and Kristoff, and they were family. A Glamour may help Belle and Beast out, but it wouldn't solve the root of their issue. "I think Jiminy is still holding counseling sessions…"

She was vaguely cognizant that Jack had quieted and was standing three feet from her; she could feel his eyes lingering. Elsa's attention shifted to her desk. The papers accumulated to a good two feet high alone, and she had barely gone through half of them. Mainly they were made up of a combination of requests for moving to or from the Farm, requests for more access to Glamours, notification of travel or returns, disputes to be quieted, and then of course the paperwork for costs to covering up their existence. Just the other day about a dozen memory wipes had to be paid for to cover up Thumbelina slipping out of the Farm yet again. Needless to say her space seemed permanently in organized disarray despite her consistent efforts.

"Hey Elsa," Jack began, but was interrupted by the door slamming open and a very frazzled rabbit darting into the room.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear – Miss Elsa! Oh my, it-it-it's such a horrid – Miss Elsa!" The White Rabbit could not keep still, hardly able to maintain a grasp on his pocket watch. Elsa and Jack were both startled as the rabbit jumped onto the desk, knocking over the papers, and then was stuck in a staccato of apologizing vigorously between the mess he had created, and the emergency that had him so frantic.

Jack was chuckling as Elsa crouched to the rabbit's height and reached out her white gloved hands and gently held her palms open in a move to calm him. "It's all right, it's all right. But please, White Rabbit, what's wrong?" His red eyes could not stay still and Elsa found herself half afraid he was about to combust.

"Be beggin' yer pardon, Miss Elsa, but I'll be requirin' yer time." Lumbering into the room with a considerable limp came the sheriff of Fabletown. The large man appeared all the more massive with his oversized trench coat and manner that he would lean forward with each step of his mechanical leg. In his good hand he held a bundle of papers – more for Elsa to sort through – while his robotic arm set at its default "hand" mode was lifting his sunglasses to reveal both his normal and mechanical eye. The latter glowed a bright yellow. Despite portions of his face immobile from mechanical influence, he had no difficulty expressing his agitation. Elsa looked up from the trembling rabbit, and met the gaze of the large man who stormed in. His unease simmered to sympathy for a mere moment, gazing down at Elsa, before shifting his attention to the other occupant of the room. "Ah, Jack, I should have known ye'd be here. Good. I'll be needin' ya lazy bum, too."

Jack raised a brow at the sheriff and wrinkled his nose. "Oh yeah? Well maybe my lazy bum –"

"Silver." Elsa cut through the potential banter. Their regular pissing match would have to be postponed. "What's going on?"

"I'm afraid, Miss Elsa, I can' say, but yer goin' ter want to see this."

(Cause there are no reasons)

The small condo was in complete disarray. Covering the knocked-over pottery, furniture, and pictures in the kitchen and living room was a vast coat of blood. So much, that in many areas it had yet to fade to brown. Large hand prints dragged in the direction of the open windows. The curtains billowed harshly from the wind. From their confined angle at the door, it seemed that while there was considerably less blood in the other rooms, they were still in great disorder. The greatest spark of horror was generated from the message, "Scum of Fabletown" written in blood.

Jack shut the door, only taking his eyes off the scene to check on Elsa. The playful yet poised beauty had an expression of pure horror behind the handkerchief held up to her face. She was covered in white, from her gloves to her blouse to her tight-fitted skirt to her shoes, a stark contrast to the red that covered the room. She didn't belong there and he wished she didn't have to see this. Heck, he wished _he_ didn't have to, either.

"Can' have any Natives gettin' wind o' this," Silver grunted. Jack muttered "No kidding" under his breath. "Jus' be sure to watch where yer steppin'. Don' want ter track any of the blood around. That means you an' yer bare feet, Jack." Jack lifted his right foot and wiggled his toes, mentally patting himself on the back for his sense of balance. The group was clustered together in front of the entrance, simultaneously staring in horrific awe and trying not to disturb the crime scene.

Jack stood to Silver's left and was handed a large box containing measuring equipment, plastic bags, bleach, and other tools necessary for analyses and cleanup. He wanted to be anywhere but in that apartment. The winter spirit could tolerate the presence of blood and pain for so long. He could not stifle the ache of remembering what his job used to be, once upon a time.

The only individual who was not horrified by the contents of the condo was the little blue alien scurrying about. Stitch was in the room long before they had arrived, taking pictures for the small detective department operating under Silver. As always, it was amusing to see the two aliens complemented one another; Stitch was by far more intelligent than Silver, but he also was more juvenile and impulsive, so working under Silver worked better for the two. The ex-pirate was used to working with unruly not-so-human types, so Stitch was not too much of an unknown entity. The sheriff also had a good sense of humor when there wasn't a possibility of foul play around the corner.

Jack got a kick out of the little mutant, despite his sometimes alarming lack of empathy: Stitch was always up for a good prank.

" _Jaba ramid nye hassin_ , Boss Man," Stitch said. He was hanging off the ceiling holding the heavy camera and dressed in a bright orange jump suit, boots, and gloves. Jack glanced again at Elsa who frowned slightly: like most, she was not familiar with Tantalog. The alien was even more difficult to understand with the face mask he wore. For good measure he took a picture of the three, and cackled at their blinking expressions after the bright flash.

"Stitch!" Silver bellowed, and the blue alien quieted. "We may not be on a ship, but ye best be holdin' yerself to a certain code of conduct, ye understandin'?"

"Okay, okay," Stitch grumbled and scurried along the ceiling until he was above Silver and lowered the camera so that the sheriff could catch. "Stitch finished anyway." Jack smirked up at the small alien. There was something gratifying about seeing another troublemaker ordered around even more than him.

"Pardon the critter, Miss Elsa," Silver lightly groveled, to save face or keep in Elsa's good graces Jack wasn't sure. Either way, Jack knew the deputy mayor wouldn't be bothered; in general Elsa had a pretty great sense of humor. She simply felt there was more of a time and place for everything.

"What happened?" Elsa rubbed her gloved hands together, maintaining focus on the more pressing issue. Jack shifted the weight of the box in his arms, glad she asked, because he was about to ask the same thing. His eyes trailed some large drops of blood leading to a large pool close to his bare feet. He stepped around the mess, and looked like he was about to practice some deep squats.

"Naveen dead," Stitch said simply.

"What?" Jack and Elsa cried collectively.

Silver shook his head with a nervous grin at the two disgruntled winter Fables before giving Stitch a stern look. "Now, we don' know that fer sure." The blue alien rolled his eyes and gestured to the scene. "What we do know is this be Naveen's apartment, and this be his blood."

Jack and Elsa gaped at the scene with new eyes, and Jack thought that perhaps Stitch wasn't too off in his thinking.

"I didn't know he was in town," Jack muttered.

Elsa's eyes did not stray from the blood as she said in a quiet voice, "He returned from Venice about eight months ago. He wanted to keep it quiet." Jack would have asked how she knew, except that Fables were required to check in with her when entering or leaving town so as to keep track of their numbers.

"Aye, and this be where he stayin'."

Maybe it was because the place was a complete and utter wreck, but the apartment seemed awfully small and without class to belong to a prince. If this was all Naveen could afford, no wonder he kept quiet. Rather embarrassing in comparison to the success that his ex-wife, Tiana, had had garnered from her restaurants.

Jack tried for a more productive question, "Do we … have any leads or ideas on who would …?" He trailed off. It was well known that Naveen had more than a reputation for unapologetically luring in women and making use of whatever income or resources he could get his hands on. The prince was not among Fabletown's most favored people. Jack certainly held no respect for the man.

"What we be knowin' fer almos' certain is that this be the work of a Fable," Silver said solemnly.

"And Naveen dead," Stitch muttered from his perch.

The three turned to the small alien.

Elsa finally whispered as she lowered her handkerchief; "Do you truly believe, after all these years, that a Fable would commit murder?"

Before he could reconsider his words, Jack said in a light tone, "It's not as if we're exactly low on psychopaths and murderers in this town. Isn't that right, Silver?"

A pause followed.

"Jack. _Leave_."

"Actually, me beauty," Silver seemed to step out of the stiffened stance he had taken, and Elsa's glare redirected itself to him at his slip of tongue. The typical apologetic, playing stupid smile adorned his face. Jack's smile was all but a sneer. "Me apologies, Miss Elsa, but I'll be needin' him here. Even though he could be doin' some more respectin'." He chuckled as if he had made a joke.

Jack kept his head down, focused on the contents of the box.

"An' I be sayin' that a Fable be doin' the killin', fer that line right there." He pointed his mechanical arm to the writing on the wall. Jack looked up despite himself, following Silver's gestures. "A Native wouldn' be knowin' 'bout our kind, less be leavin' such a message agains' us. They be wantin' ter make us known by public means."

The Snow Queen gripped her handkerchief tightly, as if trying to feel the texture through her white gloves. "So … we have a killer in our midst."

Jack did not say a word, but his eye almost seemed to audibly twitch. Perhaps Elsa noticed for she added, "At least, a killer post-Forgiveness Act."

Tension fogged the room in heavy waves and it was directed toward their sheriff. Elsa glanced away from the two men, but Jack stared unabashedly at Silver. The large alien began to shift his weight in something maybe akin to guilt until he felt the male Fable's gaze. He met Jack's stare, a darkness seemed to pass over his face. Perhaps it was Jack's imagination, but the larger man's mechanical eye seemed to slowly turn red. "Ye have somethin' ter say, boy?"

Jack's hands shuddered, aching for his missing staff.

"Silver." Elsa half sashayed to get between the two men before Jack could respond. "Are you sure you need Jack?" The tension evaporated.

"Ye think I'm askin' for us to dance the hempen jig or somethin'? O' course I be needin' him." He reached over and placed a heavy hand on Jack's shoulder, and Jack knew that he was purposely acting too familiar. "I'll be havin' a special job fer him." Silver barked a laugh as Jack roughly shrugged him off.

"Fine, just don't touch me, _Cupcake_." He'd much rather spend time cleaning Elsa's office. Silver spared him a warning glance before resuming his façade of a cheery individual and waved at the departing deputy.

"All right." Elsa lingered on her words and in the doorway, clearly not expressing all her thoughts. "I need to return … what should I say to the Mayor?"

The large alien turned to face the petite woman, his expression without humor, and said, "Best not ter be sayin' anythin' yet, not 'til we have some more o' the facts. Keep it between us and the investigative departments." Which Jack knew meant: keep the mayor out of it or he may make a bigger mess of the matter and tell the whole town.

Elsa's hand was on the door and Jack was glad to see her leaving. "Yes, and please keep me posted on the investigation."

Silver nodded next to Jack as the door clicked open. "Miss Elsa, I'll be sure to keep ye up ter date on all our findings – once we have the findings, o' course." He gave her a toothy grin, presenting a broad view of his gapped front teeth.

"Thank you." The Snow Queen paused and looked back at the apartment from the doorway, and Jack watched the touch of regret that passed over her face. "I hope we find a body."

(Tell me why)

Beneath the government building where Elsa worked resided a magically expansive labyrinth made up of enchanted and ancient artifacts that, even after centuries of documentation and study, had not been thoroughly examined. With thousands of Fables spilling in from hundreds of worlds, many powerful, magical items found their way into the community. For the sake of safety, all magical weapons and items for battle were taken from the citizens to be studied, all for the purpose to one day be used against the Great Conqueror. Thus, certain Fables volunteered due to their intellect and interest in research to take on the task of documenting all these items.

One such person was Milo Thatch, a lesser-known Fable who still didn't really consider himself one. He liked to attribute his longevity to the blue crystal that hung around his neck, rather than some unknown force that connected his lifespan to his popularity with unknown beings. Still, the theory had some potential merit and if his priorities weren't otherwise placed he would probably spend more time obsessing over the subject.

A voice broke the silence that had been present for a solid twenty minutes. "Small human child, get that over here!"

A second one cut in. "Yo, I haven't been a child for centuries. You want me to try out this sword on you?"

And a third. "Now there, Excalibur is not a toy but a great historical piece of cultural significance, and possesses more power in it than you could possibly imagine." A pause and a prideful chuckle, "And I should know because I measured and studied it myself."

Milo sighed. The team had been doing so well, so quiet for so long and now bickering was starting up again. Milo removed his glasses and cleaned the lenses, as if hoping that after putting them back on again he would find himself in solitude. After rubbing them clean with his shirt, he placed them back on and turned back from his desk to the rest of the area he resided. Alas, they were still there.

"Bah." A large and round, blue and tan alien with four eyes swiveled in his seat from his own workspace. The self-proclaimed "Evil Genius" Jumba Jookiba at least looked the part, with the magnifying lenses he wore and the white lab coat he adorned. If that wasn't convincing enough, the large silver and blue plasma gun he lifted off his desk, hoisted over his shoulder and aimed certainly would do the trick. "Today is day you learn to respect the name –"

"Oh blast it all – put that down!" The only occupant of the room whose appearance showed old age fumbled for his wand through his long, white beard. Milo had suggested once that the wizard cut the thing off if it was such an inconvenience, but the older man simply chuckled and said he knew what he was doing. Milo still did not understand the necessity of so much hair, but who was to argue with the legendary Merlin? At least the older man didn't grow indignant at his ideas like most.

The youngest looking occupant of the room, roughly appearing to be in his early twenties, did not seem particularly bothered by the fact that a loaded weapon was currently aimed in his direction. Instead, he openly smirked at the large alien, adjusted the worn blue cap on top of his unruly black hair, and lifted his arm from the sword in front of him, showing a red bracelet that hugged his forearm. Milo would have guessed it to be some new fashion trend Hiro was following, except that it was littered in buttons and when Hiro pressed one, an electromagnetic screen bubbled around him. "Go ahead and try it, Fatso!"

"Music to my ear canals…" And with much practice, Milo took his cue to duck beneath his desk as Merlin yelped and the sound of a large blast filled the room. He wasn't sure if it was his clumsy landing or the after effects of the weapon that resulted in the objects on his desk to fall to the floor in a great clutter. Luckily the explosion that followed only knocked over random items that were not fastened to the desks or resided on enchanted shelving. Merlin had long since learned his lesson working with these two and had found it best to cast some enchantments to prevent too much harm to the priceless things surrounding them, not to mention the building in which they resided.

The ex-navigator crawled out from under his place of safety at the sound of Hiro's unapologetic and rather triumphant laughter. Jumba's face was covered in char and all four of his lenses completely broken to reveal his blinking eyes.

"You incorrigible…!" Merlin was readying one of his many enraged rants and Milo was actively wondering why he hadn't put in a request to work in a different department when a far off door opened and a familiar walk inspired a halt to the scene.

"Oh great…" Milo groaned and thumped his head against his desk, muttering a quick, "Ow." His colleagues quickly tried to right themselves as best they could for Silver's arrival. If there was someone who could inspire any semblance of order, it was the Sheriff. Sadly, he also had a pension for roping Milo into one task or another that was usually quite unpleasant. If only Jim were around, he would volunteer in his stead, but he hadn't seen that man in a week.

"G'afternoon, gentlemen." Silver tipped his hat and bowed low. Typical, theatrical Silver. Milo was taken mildly off guard to see that the sheriff had shifted into his Glamour. The mechanical eye, arm, and leg were gone, as well as his more canine-like nose and ears, and in place were more humanly-acceptable features. Milo groaned because this meant they weren't making a trip to a certain Deputy Mayor's office and were instead going on a little field trip to the outside world where, most definitely, he was going to be enlisted to do a rather daunting task.

"Good afternoon, Silver," Merlin greeted, just as pleasant. Not only was he the leader of the Research Division, but he was also the only one not threatened by Silver's presence. Perhaps it was due to also being a rather prominent member of the Seventh Floor; they did not scare easily. Jumba was also grinning rather broadly from his seat, like if he were to smile wide enough, Silver wouldn't notice how blackened his face was.

"Hey, Big Guy," Hiro tipped his hat, looking pretty pleased with himself.

"What can we do for you today?" Merlin pressed. And by "we" he meant Milo, of course. Already, the bespectacled Fable was readying his coat and organizing his desk so that he may easily resume, whenever he ended up returning. He knew the drill. It didn't stop him from clumsily spilling the scrolls he had been looking over onto the floor.

Silver grinned back at them as he adjusted the belt on his pants, obviously ignoring the events that had recently transpired. "I'll be needin' the bookworm." Yup, that meant Milo. "Have a bit of a task I'll be requirin' his presence fer. It be his favorite pastime, after all." He winked at Milo who returned a smile not half as enthusiastic. Hiro snickered.

"Oh, of course – and would you look at that!" Merlin's expression was chipper, though a mischievous glint was in his eye as he pushed his wizarding cap back. "Here is Milo nice and ready for you. Good lad."

"Well actually I do have a bit of a…" Milo stood from the items he had been cleaning, grabbed the fishermen hat hanging off a coat hanger neck to his desk, and adjusted it on his head before taking his place next to the sheriff. "Yes I-I'm ready, just had a, uh, a spill," Milo had never outwardly complained in front of Merlin, but he didn't do much to hide his reluctance. The only thing that had lessened over the years was his protesting.

"Do be having fun!" Jumba trilled as he turned back to his work, or at least pretended to return to productivity.

Hiro, on the other hand, was much more interested. Especially since he was never invited to these outings. "So what's the story?" He rested his chin on the back of his chair. "You have some big baddie to wrestle down with the help of _Muscles_ , here?" Milo scowled but Hiro had no semblance of an apology in his expression.

"Oh, jus' the usual kind o' business I won't be tellin' ya about." Silver barked a laugh which Merlin and Jumba were happy to join him.

"Now Hiro, you know it's best to not stick our noses in other's business. Some might call you a gossip, rather drawl pastime. And an overly muscular physique is highly overrated. Brains over brawn and all that." Merlin tsk'd lightly at the younger Fable. Hiro rolled his eyes and spun around in his seat, back to work.

Perhaps the action reminded him of a certain someone, for Silver stopped and peered around. Despite his mechanical eye no longer being visible, Milo could practically see the device zooming in and analyzing the room. "Where's Jimbo?"

Jumba and Hiro shrugged, the latter now bored as his question wasn't being answered. The younger Fable didn't even bother to turn around. "Dunno," he said. "Haven't seen him."

"I haven't seen the lad for six days now, but that's no surprise. You know, he is always disappearing and reappearing with a, a new story or two to tell. I'm certain he's perfectly fine," Merlin said, daring to pat Silver on the arm in comfort before returning to his work with a chuckle. "If he was in any real danger, I would know. After all, I happen to be a wizard."

Silver chose not to respond, and instead tipped his hat to the researchers and clasped a large hand on Milo's slim shoulder. "Well, I'm sure yer right. Best be on our way, then."

Sniggered farewells were exchanged on Milo's behalf as they exited the building. With some hope, Milo looked to the elevator that would have taken them to the eleventh floor, the deputy mayor's floor, but they cleared the level. The two passed through the hallway out onto the main floor where the receptionist was adjusting a plate of brownies next to his phone. Milo offered a small wave as the very large, in-shape man who almost seemed to spill out of his grey suit perked at their appearance.

"Hello Silver – busy day for you, today! This is the fourth time I've seen you run in and out. And Milo! Oh, it must be a fun one. I don't suppose you two have a quick second for brownies. There's peanut butter." He beamed and held out a tray.

Milo began to reach for one, grateful for the distraction and his cooking. "Oh, thank –"

"I'm 'fraid not, Kronk," Silver said, his expression bright but his movements gruff as he pulled Milo by the collar of his jacket before he could touch one. Silver did not slow his pace as he dragged the smaller man toward the exit. "As ye say, busy day."

"Bummer." Milo could see Kronk pout as he munched on one himself. "Does that mean we'll have to cancel cooking tonight? I've already gone to the farmer's market!"

"It'll have to wait!" Silver called over his shoulder. As they cleared the automatic doors and entered the bustling streets of Fabletown, Silver muttered, "Nice fellow, but sharp he be not." Milo couldn't argue that one.

"Mr. Silver, I, I, I want to ask, where is it exactly we're going?" Milo asked as they hurried along.

"Ye'll have to wait an' see. Can't be talkin' out here." Silver glanced at the citizens who walked by, most hurrying at the sight of Silver. The disguised alien tipped his hat and grinned at the Natives. While the sheriff looked perfectly human, his intimidation factor was still present, especially since he was dragging some small man to who knows where.

"Oh, of … of course." Milo pushed up his glasses. He had the sneaking suspicion that Silver took some sort of sadistic delight in bossing him around.

The walk wasn't too far, simply ten minutes or so, but regardless Milo was looking to catch his breath once they arrived at the apartment complex.

"No time fer that." Milo nearly fell when Silver yanked his sleeve forward so that they may enter. Up and up they climbed the stairs until they arrived on the fifth floor. Milo was still wheezing when they stopped at Room 508 when the door opened and he was half tossed inside.

Milo somehow caught the door and straightened himself up, determined to reclaim some dignity. "Now, now see here, Silver! You can't just –!" He cut himself off when he saw the other two inhabitants of the room.

"Hey Milo, are you babysitting today?"

The other miscreant cackled in what Milo would dub "villainous glee."

Stitch and Jack: his least favorite combination.

Jack was sporting the usual bright orange jumpsuit, but the fact that Stitch was as well? "Am I here to clean up this mess they made?" He gestured to the toppled furniture and torn wall paper in disbelief, and ignored Jack's indignant Hey! "Silver, this is ridiculous! You-you-you always do this!" He counted out on his hand in frustration, "First, you interrupt my work – really important work that kind of pertains to the growth and freedom of not only Fabletown, but all Fablekind! Second, you pretty much _manhandle_ me all across town and I bruise pretty easily, you know! Third, you are pulling me away yet again to play, _yes play_ , babysitter, and I clearly cannot control –!"

Silver shut the door with enough intensity for Milo to quiet himself. "Quit yer yammerin'. Are ye blind? This be a crime scene."

The Basement representative startled as he looked at the apartment, past Jack and Stitch, and tuned into the disarray with new understanding. "O-oh." Much quieter than his previous volume, he tentatively asked, "W-was this a break-in or…?"

"Nothin' we can conclude quite yet, I'm afraid."

Milo's tongue seemed to fall back into his throat.

Silver gestured to a large box that Milo had not initially seen upon entry. It was filled with about a couple dozen bags of blood. "I should say, this be more the recreatin' of the actual crime scene. I've rented this place below and had the Seventh Floor duplicate the contents of the above apartment here. Stitch an' Jack have already recreated the mess o' the room, but now it be time to calculate the blood loss."

" _B-b-b-blood loss_?" Milo repeated.

"Stitch already know how much Naveen lost," the furry alien said, folding his four arms.

"Naveen?" Milo looked to Jack for confirmation. Jack grimly nodded. No wonder he wasn't cracking as many jokes as usual. "He's in town? _Is he all right?_ "

"We're not sure," Silver answered. "It was at least certainly made ter look like he isn'."

Jack leaned against the wall, "Here we go again."

Stitch groaned loudly, using his claws to pull his lower eyelids down until they all had a lovely view of the inside. "Naveen not okie taka. Naveen dead! Human body hold five and a half liters of blood, and Naveen easily lost over three. 3.6 liters Naveen lost. No way Naveen alive." Stitch released his face for a good scowl at Silver and added for good measure, "Stupid head."

Stitch's pout lost to Silver's glare. "Talk like that ter me again, an' I'll personally see ter ye havin' a very limited supply o' coffee."

If the situation were less serious, Milo would have laughed at how affronted and aghast the creature was. At least Jack managed a snicker.

Silver continued, "An' I don' care what kind of brain ye have allowin' ye to calculate all o' that. We need it fer the books, in a tangible way, how much blood was lost." Stitch's response was a raspberry. Milo wondered why it was that Silver would rile them up just in time for Milo to take over every time. "So here's how it's goin' ter go: Milo is in charge"—Jack raised a brow and looked at Stitch who mirrored his expression—"an' he'll be makin' sure ye two are behavin' an doin' ye job. No horsin' around, ye hear?" He pointed his index finger at Stitch and Jack, daring them to promise otherwise.

"Sheriff, we'd follow Milo over a cliff," Jack declared with mock seriousness.

Stitch mirrored Jack and agreed in Tantalog, " _Ih._ "

Milo didn't buy it for one second and he doubted the sheriff did, either, but Silver had to get going. "There ye go, Milo. Couldn' ask fer more loyalty than that!"

"Mr. Silver, that clearly –"

"Now Milo," Silver spoke over him. "We'll be usin' Stitch's photos for ye to look at, but we'll mostly be usin' his photographic memory in recreatin' the blood splatter. So just focus on them behavin' themselves. They'll do the grunt work. Righ' boys?"

Jack and Stitch saluted in unison. It was kind of impressive, but not enough to dissuade Milo.

"Yes, but see –"

"That's a good lad. Now, I'll be checkin' in tomorrow mornin', so ye best be finished by then. In the meantime, I have my own investigatin' to be gettin' to." Silver's large hand encompassed the door handle, and Milo saw his way out evaporating.

"But –!"

"Elsa should be by with food 'round 6," Silver promised and with a click the door was shut.

Milo slumped his head against the wall.

"Jeez, Stitch, you'd think he wasn't happy to see us."

" _Ih_ , so mean."

Hopefully she'd be bringing scotch. And maybe some of Kronk's brownies; those looked really good.

(She wants to play with her toys awhile)

Elsa exhaled as her key clicked the office's lock into place. Despite her workplace hours coming to a close, her labor for the day was incomplete. At least, she consoled herself, she would have a pseudo-break by sharing in Kronk's company in the kitchen for a good hour or so whilst he prepared dinner. Normally the secretary would make the deliveries, but the case was of the utmost secrecy and Kronk did not possess a great capacity for discretion. Hence why Elsa was stepping up to the plate.

At least if there were two individuals who could still manage to be cheery in a dark situation, Stitch and Jack would be the two to accomplish such a feat.

The deputy mayor inserted her keys into her purse, then adjusted her gloves for the nth time that day. Time to traipse down the steps. She peered into the glass in the door, tuning out "Deputy Mayor" and instead focusing on her slight reflection to check her hair. A strand or two was mildly mussed, but otherwise her braided bun remained in place. Elsa patted at her hair for good measure, and then stopped when she noticed something else behind her. Or better, someone.

Before she could react with her powers, a firm hand gripped around her waist while the other caught hold of her wrist – one she hadn't realized was already glowing an icy blue in preparation. She gasped as she was jerked backwards into the body that held her and pinned her to the figure – male. Elsa lifted her foot and slammed her heel into the shin of her attacker. He released her waist in surprise and pain, but at his groan she recognized his voice and spun away from him despite his hold on her wrist.

"Jim!" she cried. "What in the world?"

Her outrage died on her lips as she faced him, more questions sprung up than answers. The handsome adventurer seemed small and worn in a way she hadn't seen in a century. Jim held around his hips what looked like an old, greying curtain. Beyond that all he wore was his standard gold earring. If it weren't for his wrists, neck, ankles, and torso which held evidence of deep rope burns and swollen bruising, and therefore confinement, she would have more than reprimanded him.

"Elsa, I'm sorry, I panicked. I thought you were …" He slumped against the wall despite maintaining his hold on her. "I messed up."

The snow queen bent down with him so she would not be pulled down by his weight and removed one of her gloves. "Jim, what happened?" She sought out with her bare fingers deep bruising along his neck and gently pressed her magically cold digits to calm the swelling. The man sucked in air between his teeth, not in displeasure.

Closer still, she could see the deep circles under his eyes and the slight gauntness his features had taken. Sweat littered his skin so his brown hair clung to it. She almost touched her other hand to his cheek. "Where's Silver?" He asked. Despite the weariness that had overcome him, she could see his determination in his deep blue eyes. "I'm here to report a kidnapping."

Elsa in that moment dearly missed her event coordinating job.

(I don't like Mondays)

 **a/n:** Hello one and all. Kindly let me know if this is up your alley. Especially since I intend this make this story a rather long one.

Do review, I like hearing from you lovelies.

Whimsy


	2. Pirate Song

**Pairings:** For the most part canon. Eventual Jelsa, but beforehand there will possibly be others.

 **Rating:** R/M because people are dying so censorship is a much lesser issue of debate

 **Disclaimer:** Send your appreciation and respect to the minds of Disney, DreamWorks, Bluth, and pretty much any animation company that is not me. The original concept of this story is not mine: Fables belongs to DC/Vertigo Comics. I'm simply reinterpreting a pre-existing story, like pretty much everyone else on this website. Song and lyrics, "Pirate Song," is by Flogging Molly.

 **Thanks:** To SashaWren and IGdude117 because my writing is by no means perfect and there's always something to improve. Seriously, give them major props and thank you's. And I would also like to extends thanks to _Fyrearth, PrinceOchibi, cartoonlover44_ , and _SharKohen_ for your reviews. Your support means a lot.

Cheers

Chapter 2 – "Silver Chases The Wild Goose"

Or

"Pirate Song"

On a good night, the sheriff of Fabletown would find himself at _The Pub_. There he found a good drink and good company could be acquired with the beckoning of a finger. The music would be loud, a mixture of music from other worlds and guilty pleasures of this one, only to be drowned out by loud, conversing drunks. Ideally, Silver included. The rougher types used would share war stories and battle scars that everyone had heard before by this point, the lonely would drown their sorrows in a drink and perhaps temporary company, and Silver would take it upon himself to animate the crowd with a good tale, veiled optimistic news from his investigative team, and as much theatrics that could be tolerated from a large man.

Best to give Fables a reason for hope, and no reason that he couldn't enjoy the attention. Two birds, one stone, as they say.

Tonight, however, Silver would have to make a rain check from the drunken merriment: he had business to attend. A well-known Fable was missing, caught up in something, possibly dead, and the suspect list was frustratingly large. Prince Naveen, hardly a prince anymore, had no shortage of enemies - so tracking down who would make for a plausible prime suspect would make for more than a challenging task. Silver found it best to start in the beginning, which was why he found himself at the outskirts of Fabletown, where the magically hidden town merged into the heart of Boston, and _Tiana's_ was bustling with business.

The princess, or ex-princess, was one of the few who had arrived in this world phenomenally wealthier than she had ever been. Tiana worked as hard as Elsa and she didn't work in government – and that work had paid off to her owning and running several of the most established restaurants in Fabletown. She even had a branch in the greater Boston area and made quite a bundle off of the Natives. Last Silver heard she was interested in opening up another restaurant, but that would be a couple decades.

Silver took a moment to adjust his coat, well aware that he stood in stark contrast to the rest of the patrons entering the establishment. _Tiana's_ , the original, was a dress and tie sort of place.

The sheriff began to tuck in his shirt, saw Lumiere was that night's greeter, and thought better, and meant to march right into the establishment. He paused when he noticed the couple checking in for their reservation.

The Frenchman peered down at the list, then did a double take if Silver had ever seen one. Not that the alien was particularly surprised. The immediate individual to capture anyone's attention was the man dressed in a rich black suit, a long, gray beard and equally long hair pulled back into a low pony-tail. Few stood as tall and exuded a spiritual pressure that all seemed to shrink in his presence. The reclusive leader of the Seventh Floor, Yen Sid, had made a public appearance for the first time in almost a year.

Silver was surprised to see Yen Sid. Normally the sorcerer only left his living quarters to attend the Remembrance Day Ball – the social event of the year where any Fable who was anyone would appear to celebrate the day in which they arrived on Earth and founded their home. At first it was a means to encourage camaraderie between the foreign Fables who came from differing lands and to incite hope that this was a temporary position they held and one day they would return to their respective homes. These days it served more as a ritual for everyone to come dressed to the nine's and come together from their separate lives to recall that once their realities were so different. Three centuries in a world such as this can wear on an individual's spirit: people become complacent.

That year marked the 300th year of Fabletown's founding, and perhaps for the special occasion Yen Sid decided to make an unusual appearance. After all, the ball was days away. That, or it was due to the woman hanging on his arm.

Dressed in a clinging, deep red dress stood the voluptuous Chel. Her long black hair was wrapped in a luxurious bun, emphasizing the plunging back of the dress that fell to her mid-back.

She leaned into Yen Sid who was almost unresponsive, and answered for him, "I believe there should be a reservation for two." She half purred.

Lumiere smoothed back his dark pony tail as if to calm himself. "W-why of course." He swallowed to regain some semblance of composure. Silver took some amusement seeing the normally smooth and flirtatious Frenchman caught off guard by Yen Sid's unexpected presence. "Yes, there you are. Shall I seat you on the floor or –?"

"Some place cozy would be nice," Chel said in a low voice. Lumiere turned to Yen Sid for confirmation, but the sorcerer did not respond so Lumiere took that as confirmation.

"For you, we have just the place. Please, follow me." He grabbed a couple of menus and beckoned for the couple to follow him.

Silver stepped up to the podium and unabashedly leaned against it as he waited for the Frenchman to return. The wait wasn't long and Lumiere perked at the sight of Silver. "Ah, Sheriff, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he trilled before faltering before the list and gave him a onceover.

"I'm afraid you're not on the list, and even so, I could not let you in like this."

"Well 'scuse me for not bein' dressed fer the occasion," Silver mocked, "but I happen ter be here on official business." He pulled his badge from the inside of his jacket and held it up to Lumiere's nose. The Fable went mildly cross-eyed looking at the item.

"Oh! Pardon, Sheriff, I didn't realize…" He paused. "If I'm to accommodate you, I'll need to know with whom you wish to speak."

"I need ter speak with Tiana."

At that Lumiere started. "The mademoiselle? Non, non, non she has been involved in nothing, Monsieur Sheriff. I can speak on her behalf. She is an upstanding citizen, a guiding star who has employed so many unfortunate Fables over the years." The Frenchman's gaze hardened. "Whatever you're accusing her –"

"Ye daft, hotty-totty, nincompoop!" Silver grabbed the flirt by his bowtie before he could scramble out of reach. The sheriff pulled him close, well aware that he was spraying spit and hot breath on the man before him. "I haven' even accused her of anythin', yet! Yer the one scared o' the water before ye've even looked at it. Now bring 'er here or I'll have yer arse arrested on account o' obstructin' justice." Silver paused before adding, "And gettin' on me last nerve."

He released the cloth and Lumiere fell back with a stutter.

"O-o-of course, Sheriff!" And with as much dignity as he could muster, he scrambled into the establishment.

A minute or two passed and Silver found himself impatient and a little bored, and he entered despite his attire not meeting the dress code.

Heat and sound were the first two sensations the ex-pirate became aware of upon entry. The restaurant was a sort of combination between fine dining and jazz club, and everyone was moving or talking. Wait staff were running around to fetch orders, dressed in tuxedos, while patrons were seated at round, white-clothed tables, sipping fine wine. Three levels were open to patrons: bottom floor, main floor, and upper floor. The bottom floor featured those who wished to focus on the entertainment provided by _Tiana's_ , usually music, as Tiana had a great love and taste for it. Sometimes there were comedy acts, and on occasion one of the lower ranked from the Seventh Floor would be a feature to earn extra cash. The main floor was the primary restaurant, with larger tables, and seated farther away from the stage so that they may hear one another better. Those on the upper floor had booths that were both more private, expensive, and provided an optimal view of the stage beyond the lower floor.

Silver could not help but compare the differences in setting and company that he and Tiana tended to hold. She enjoyed the finer things in life, whereas he didn't mind a grimier setting. Still, _The Pub_ and _Tiana's_ both established settings with community and laughter.

Tonight's entertainment featured the redheaded Ariel, dressed in a fitted, white-sequin dress. Silver was not surprised. She was both a crowd favorite for her other-worldly voice, and she and Eric needed the money. He imagined less so now, considering she held the gig for about 50 years, but he didn't really keep tabs on their income.

His mechanical eye searched for the owner amidst the sea of wealthy Fables. Like a beacon a beep in his head sang to indicate its recognition and he located her by a table on the main floor near the stage. Her elegant silver dress hung around her beautifully, and he thought to himself that she and Elsa must shop at the same place for they both almost always wore white. The main difference was that Elsa leaned toward blue, and Tiana green. The black beauty was in discussion with Edna Mode, a short yet incredibly intense fashion designer. Silver could easily imagine how the conversation was going, especially with the quick hand gestures and forced smile Tiana held. He observed the relief ooze out of her when Lumiere tapped her on the shoulder, beckoned her close, and whispered in her ear. Tiana straightened and he could feel her seek him out with her eyes.

He offered a mild wave when she found him.

Silver watched Tiana excuse herself before weaving her way toward the sheriff. Lumiere began to follow her, but she gently shooed him.

"Silver," she greeted as strode over to him. "What a pleasant surprise to see you in these parts." He offered his arm and she took it and gestured to the side where a door subtly resided. "To my more private quarters for more discreet discussions," she explained.

"Righ'," he grunted and slipped his arm out from hers to hold open the door.

She smiled, said, "Thank you," and he followed her inside.

Down the corridor they went, passed the lounge and lockers designated for staff into the door with the plaque Main Office hung above pearl-colored glass. With practice she easily opened the lock with her key and turned the lights on. Silver entered the office, a nicely decorated study with bookcases filled with recipes were lined, a large desk where her desktop, pens, and picture frames were aligned, and a little lounge with more than enough seating for the two of them.

Tiana seated herself in one of the cushier chairs, and waved her arm. "Do have a seat, Silver." With a grin she added, "Word has it you've been runnin' around about as much as I do, and that definitely warrants a moment to sit." She paused, "And caffeine. Shall I make you coffee?"

"Ah, the next bes' drink next ter a good rum. I'd thank ye kindly fer that." Silver eased himself into one of the larger chairs. He knew it was going to be a long night, and he best take advantage of her hospitality now before he brought up the news.

Tiana busied herself with the mini kitchen just beyond the seating area. Leave it to Tiana to have another kitchen for her to work in within her own restaurant. As he watched her start the coffee maker, he idly thought to himself that for someone who just commented about needing to rest, she sure made herself unnecessarily busy.

"So tell me, Silver." She did not turn back to him as she spoke. "How has your day been?"

"Eh, it's been busy, as ye said." Silver wiped his brow. "Have a bit o' a case that has me attention. Been runnin' around like some loon I have."

"Mm, and I heard." Tiana brought back two cups of coffee and offered the one in her right hand. Silver took it gladly.

Silver was nervous for a moment that the actions he took to make the operation more covert were for naught. Maybe the White Rabbit blabbed. Then again, there was no way Tiana would be this calm if she knew. "What have ye heard?"

Tiana blew gently on the drink, thought better of the heat, and put it to the side. "Not much. Just that you were draggin' poor Milo around again." Ah. "Everyone knows when you bring Milo into the case that means you need an extra pair of hands."

"I've gotten that predictable, eh?"

She grinned. "Just a bit. That poor man – I hope you're at least compensating him for his efforts. I know working with that blue critter can be hair-graying for just about anyone."

"Jack's there, too."

"Oh lordie me, Silver, you're setting Milo up for heart failure."

"Bah, the lad has thicker skin than most." Silver sipped his coffee. Black as he liked it. Good old Tiana, keeping track of everyone's taste preferences. One of the ways she showed she cared. It warmed him in more ways than one. "Has Jim been volunteerin' in the kitchen again?"

Tiana raised a brow at that. "Jim? No I haven't needed the extra hands for at least a decade, what with the hard times so many Fables have had." She tried for her coffee, found it too hot, and set it down again. "Is that why you came all this way?" She looked as if she were about to make a joke before deep concern etched across her face. "Is that why you're here? Has something happened to Jim?" She held her gloved hand over her chest.

"No, I'm afraid this ain't about the lad, but a certain Fable we ain't too fond of."

The concern dropped to agitation. "Naveen."

"Ye don' seem surprised."

Tiana finally sipped her coffee, finding it had cooled enough. "That man causes trouble wherever he goes."

"I mean yer not surprised he's here in Fabletown," Silver said, and he mentally confirmed that Tiana had to be considered a suspect, even if he knew she wouldn't harm anyone. Even her ex-husband.

"No," she admitted. "I'm not surprised. He came to me …" Tiana visibly counted back. "About six months ago. He had the gall to try and ask for money." Silver whistled at that. "As if I were dumb enough to… I turned him away. He tried to come back to my restaurant a few times, but he should know better by now he's not allowed entry, especially with some poor filly."

Silver's expression grew serious as he addressed the woman in front of him. "He may have gotten more than he could chew this time."

"Oh yeah?" Tiana scoffed. "Did he embezzle a woman who is equipped with a good lawyer? Certainly explains how desperate he was."

"Tiana, I'm afraid Naveen be … missin'."

Silver could see from her raised brow that she didn't quite grasp the situation yet. "Are you sure he hasn't just run off again? If there's trouble anywhere, you know he'll hightail it fast as he can."

"Tiana," the sheriff pressed. "His apartment be … a crime scene."

Her brown eyes widened. "Oh no..." She pressed her lips tightly together, careful to choose her next words. "Can I, can I ask what happened?"

Silver shook his head. "I can't say."

"Silver."

"Friends we may be, but I be here as sheriff and this be an official case. Can't go blabbin' all the details to civilians."

"Then why –?"

"I'm afraid I'm goin' ter have to ask ye ter come with me ter the station."

(There's nothing more a man can do)

"On a scale of one to ten, would you please tell me how much pain are you in?"

"Six."

"Okay. Please hold still while I apply Bactrim to the wounded areas."

"Thanks, Baymax."

Elsa stood by the door to Baymax's medical facilities, listening to the large, marshmallow-like robot administer care to Jim's injuries. After Jim nearly passed out on top of her, she created an ice cot to carry the injured Fable to the elevator down to the second floor to Baymax where the medical robot could provide Jim the help she couldn't. She turned it on as Hiro had before instructed her. Elsa was always amazed by the technology within the android: it was able to discern an issue with Jim before she said anything. Baymax was able to diagnose that Jim suffered from malnourishment, dehydration, fever, various deep abrasions across his body that are infected, and potentially sexual assault.

After waking Jim with smelling salts, Baymax hooked the Fable up to an IV to bring water back into his system. While waiting for his hydration to go back up, he was munching on various snacks Baymax had in his office. So far the options were an array of crackers, peanut butter, a couple apples, and a lollipop. Jim was making his way through the candy, having eaten about everything else.

"You need to eat more before I can give you the oral antibiotic."

"No problem."

"I am told Flagyl tastes rather metallic."

"Oh, great."

Elsa had excused herself, feeling that Jim could use some privacy, and because she felt rather overwhelmed. She had tried calling Silver but he hadn't picked up so she left a message briefly explaining he could find her and Jim on the medical floor. Her phone felt heavy in her hand but she didn't dare put it back in her purse, in case she received an important call. She already had a false alarm earlier when Belle called. Elsa let the call go to voicemail, and now she had a new message.

She would listen to it later.

Jim loudly sucked in air through his teeth and she gripped her mobile harder in sympathy.

First Naveen is missing, and now Jim turns up having experienced something clearly erring toward traumatic: honestly she felt she could use a hug and a nice cup of hot chocolate. Where were Anna and Olaf when she needed them? Well, one of them was up at the Farm, and the other was celebrating her anniversary and had yet to return.

Anna and her husband, Kristoff, were visiting New Zealand to see where _Lord of the Rings_ had been filmed. She expected she would be treated to a slideshow of many reenactment photos upon their return.

"Anna, I wish you were here."

"Elsa?"

The snow queen straightened and turned her head at the sound of her name. "Yes, Jim?" His voice was still a little breathless.

"It's all right, you can come in."

Elsa gripped the metal, not quite entering. Jim was lying in a cot, several blankets pulled up to his chest, and his right arm held out for open access to the IV. His legs were elevated from earlier when he was receiving treatment for shock, but that seemed to have passed. The Snow Queen averted her gaze, focusing on his face, not as frighteningly pale as before. The lollipop poking out of his mouth endeared him to her. The tired, sadness behind his eyes even more. He offered a slight smile before dropping his gaze.

"My scan shows higher levels of dopamine in Jim when Elsa is present …"

Jim stiffened considerably and his voice cracked for probably the first time in centuries, "Hey you stupid robot –!"

"… An increase in dopamine leads to higher pain tolerance. Therefore, I conclude that Elsa's presence would be beneficial for Jim's recovery." Elsa turned a bit pink behind her hand and smiled. At least the fact that Jim was able to stutter and become worked up meant he was feeling better than before. Baymax waddled as he picked up a chair and placed it next to the head of Jim's bed. The robot patted the back of the chair and directed its cameras toward Elsa. "My scans indicate sitting down would be beneficial to your health as well. This would be," the robot almost seemed proud as it recited a saying it had recorded from humans. "Hitting two birds with one stone. Though to do so would be frowned upon."

Jim covered his eyes with the crook of his free arm. "Right. Thanks, Baymax."

"My function is to help."

"Yup. You're doing a good job, buddy."

"I believe a fist bump is in order."

Elsa quietly laughed behind her hands as Jim begrudgingly appeased the robot's implied request. It was terribly amusing how clueless the robot seemed to Jim's strain. Yet the male Fable was purposely responding in a way that Baymax would assume its functions were met with positivity to avoid strain or confusion. She lowered her hands, almost in bemused guilt, as Jim looked her way. It was rather sweet, actually.

"Baymax." Elsa turned to the robot with a smile. "Perhaps if Jim needs to eat more, you could go and ask Kronk to whip up something for him? He's down in the kitchens."

The large android turned to Jim. "Is there something you would prefer to eat?"

Jim was fishing. "Uh, I'm not sure. Something heavy."

"Something heavy. I will ask Kronk his opinion." Baymax took a few steps toward the door, then stopped. "Are you sure you have no preference?"

Jim waved him off. "Anything is fine, big guy."

Baymax shifted back on its android hips and nodded. "Then I shall make use of Kronk's expertise on cooking. His food is described as excellent."

"That's right." Elsa bit her lip to refrain from laughing. Jim playfully rolled his eyes and she bit down harder.

"I shall depart for the time being." Baymax waddled out the door.

Jim visibly relaxed further into his pillow.

"Oh." Elsa and Jim jumped as the robot popped its head through the doorway. "It is healthy when one has experienced trauma to talk about the event to begin healing. Elsa is a friend, and therefore would make for a potential option. Professionals, such as psychotherapists or psychologists are also good options. Perhaps I should contact Jiminy Cricket?"

Jim's playfulness ebbed as a weary guard manifested itself. "You cooking would make me happiest right now."

"Very well." And finally the robot left.

The two Fables waited to see if Baymax would reappear, but it seemed after a minute or two he had indeed departed.

"Ugh." Jim slumped.

Elsa smiled gently. "Baymax has been a great help. Its programming is simply … on the smothering side at times."

The injured Fable took the lollipop out of his mouth. "If Hiro would just let me look into its specs…"

Elsa stepped over to the seat Baymax had set up for her next to Jim and sat down. She clutched her hands in her lap. "His brother created that robot, so it's understandable he doesn't want anyone else touching it." She knew that if anything were to happen to Anna, she would feel very protective of any memorabilia.

Jim shrugged but didn't show any disagreement. His fatigue was showing once more. Now that Baymax was gone, it seemed his guard was dropping. "Jim." He looked up at her, his blue eyes seemed all the bigger. She rested her hand flat on the bed a few inches from his torso. Purposely caring, but not too intimate. "If you do wish to talk, you may. I'm not Silver, but I am happy to listen."

"Thanks, but I'd better wait for him."

"Of course." She was surprised that she was a bit hurt by his rejection. Elsa mentally berated herself. Jim was in pain, in the hospital, and here she was making it about her. How selfish and egotistical. It wasn't as if she was an open book. Rather hypocritical, too.

Jim seemed to pick up on her feelings, for he reached his hand out to hers and clasped it in his. She gasped a little despite herself. People didn't touch her too much. His wrist was wrapped in gauze to protect the infected abrasions and keep the ointment secured, but his hand was large and warm. "Elsa, it's not … I just, I don't want to explain more than once, all right? Silver will want a report and whenever I go through … everything, well the fewer times, the better." She wondered if her hand felt cold. "But thank you, really." He smiled up at her.

Tender affection seemed to glow from within her, or maybe it radiated from both of them. It was hard for her to say.

"I –"

"Jimbo!" Elsa jumped and pulled her hand back despite herself. She didn't miss Jim's look of disappointment quickly covered by relief at the sight of his old friend. "What have ye gotten yerself into this time?" Despite Silver's accusing words and tone, Elsa knew he had deep concern for Jim.

"About time, ya old scallywag." Jim grinned. He then looked back to the doorway, confused. "Tiana?"

Elsa looked back, too, and indeed there the Fable was – dressed impeccably in a glittering white strapless dress matched with a rabbit fur coat. She hoped the White Rabbit didn't catch sight of her. She and Tiana resonated with one another in so many ways, but sometimes Tiana was a bit stubborn in her views of how she wanted to care for herself. This included dressing in expensive furs that would offend a great deal of the Farm inhabitants.

"Jim, how are you?" Tiana made her way to the bed, then changed her direction when she noticed the snow queen. "Elsa! You're here, too." She stood next to the blonde and rested her hands on her hips. "It seems we have something of a party." Elsa offered a weak smile.

Silver shook his head in good humor then shifted into 'sheriff mode.' "Elsa, I'm gonna need ya ter take Tiana up to me office fer the time bein'. Jim and me have to have a bit o' a chat."

Tiana raised her brow as Elsa stood to acquiesce Silver's order. "Excuse me? Silver, you said this was all a formality and shouldn't take long. I don't have time for false accusations – I have a business to run!"

"Tiana." Silver's tone was firm but gentle. "I'm sorry, but yer goin' ter need ter wait." Tiana deflated. It was clear in his tone he was also saying 'If this was anyone else, you'd be top priority.' The two had a bond from beyond their arrival on Earth. "An as soon as I get ter ye, I'll have ye out as quickly as I can. And I'll escort ye home safely meself."

"All right …" By the time Tiana turned to Elsa to be escorted, the deputy mayor was already standing. The ex-princess addressed the healing Fable. "Jim, I do hope you feel better." Jim nodded but said nothing.

"Yes," Elsa spoke up for her own farewell. "I'll need to take my leave after. Please take care of yourself." She smiled and added, "And please have patience with Baymax."

Jim grinned guiltily and shook his head. "Thanks, Elsa. You too, Tiana."

Elsa offered a little wave before exiting the room behind Tiana. The two walked in almost awkward silence, a bit of a surprise considering how they normally got along. Elsa figured Tiana may still be upset so she opted not to say anything. Elsa knew she would be frustrated if Silver were to pull her away from her mountain of work, only to be a sitting duck until he finished with other tasks. There was something inefficient about the whole thing. And no appreciation for another's time, either.

Tiana spoke up. "Was it just me, or was there a bit of a moment goin' on before we got there?"

The Snow Queen raised a brow, deciding to play oblivious. "Moment?"

Tiana smiled knowingly. "I may not be Anna, but honey, I've known you long enough to have picked up a thing or two."

"What you sensed was relief from Baymax." Elsa corrected. "Jim doesn't like to be fussed over."

"He'd like you fussin' over him."

"Tiana!"

"Well most men would, I suppose."

"You hang out with Lottie way too much."

Tiana laughed and stepped to the side as they entered the elevator. "Deflect all you want, don't mean I'm wrong."

"Well," Elsa almost sputtered before lamely finishing with, "you are." She pressed the button marked '11'.

"Just as well." Tiana shrugged. "I always thought it'd be you and Jack gettin' together."

The doors closed.

(Settle down, don't take a fit)

Jack wiped his forehead with his forearm, careful not to get any residual blood on his face. His back was killing him from being hunched over so much, but his Fable healing capacities would correct that in a few minutes. Already the soreness had lessened compared to just moments earlier.

"Is that everything now?"

" _Ih._ "

"Finally!" Jack almost sat down on a couch in relief, but thought better of it when he remembered it was covered in blood. He opted to slump down to one of the few areas on the floor not covered in red.

Finally, after hours of work, they were finished.

"Amazing." Jack didn't bother to look over in Milo's direction as he spoke. He wanted a good solid sleep. "Stitch, your estimate was correct – 3.6 liters exactly!"

The blue alien seemed far less enthused about the matter than the bespectacled Fable, but his evident smugness more than made up for it. " _Naga_ estimate. Stitch calculate exactly. Stitch smarter than all you silly humans."

Jack chuckled and rolled his eyes. He didn't care enough to argue with Stitch. Plus, he knew that the little fur ball was technically correct. No one garnered money like Stitch did. While the alien worked in the Law Department, his network far exceeded anyone else's due to his occasional interest in the stock market. Occasional being the operative word because the alien didn't so much care about having a great many riches, but being able to get whatever he wants. So if Stitch had a whim, he would be seen on the computer and making phone calls, and whoever else were to keep tabs on his bank account would quite possibly fall over in the change in amount. The only reason Stitch wasn't seen rolling in it all the time was because it did not interest him and he grew bored easily.

"I think Hiro might take offense to that," Milo said in clear amusement. "Merlin, too, for that matter."

"Not Jumba, eh?" Jack playfully challenged. Now he was looking at his two companions. Stitch was hanging off the ceiling once again, one set of arms folded across his belly, while his remaining two arms were busied with keeping him hanging and stroking his face in contemplation. Stitch was looking at the recreated scene from above, getting a fuller perspective. Milo was leaning against a part of the counter in the kitchen not covered in blood. He was scribbling away on his notepad.

"I think Jumba figures whatever Stitch does is reflective of his own intelligence. If anything, he actually takes pride in the matter," Milo explained without looking up.

"That's dumb."

"Depends on how you look at it. For example, the capacity to rework the makeup of another being and create an entirely new species is incredible. But then to go even further than that and go into the DNA coding and pick and choose precisely the traits that you want? That's nothing short of incredible. His understanding of genetics is, is, is far beyond anyone I have ever met – save for Stitch who was given that capability because of Jumba." Milo was half gushing, half rambling again. Jack chuckled. It was endearing to see the nerd get excited about others' work. The bookworm of a Fable had a strong sense of curiosity and wonder in him that reminded Jack of North. "People underestimate him because he's rather … eccentric," – "Sociopathic" Jack corrected – "But I believe –"

The window slammed shut and the two jumped, realizing Stitch had just climbed out the window. Jack awkwardly made his way to the window sill, avoiding blood, and opened it again and stuck his head out. Stitch was scurrying up the wall.

"W-what's he doing?" Milo asked from inside.

"Stitch!" Jack hollered. "Everything all right?"

The alien didn't respond but slipped into the apartment above: the original crime scene.

Jack frowned. If he had his staff he could call upon the wind to fly him up there no problem. He could hear Elsa's voice, telling him that she knew he could fly without it, but she didn't understand. Or maybe it was him that didn't.

He pulled his head back inside. "Man, I have no idea what he's doing."

Milo looked around the room doubtfully, "There could be something missing he needs to check on…"

Jack stretched his arms out in front of him. "If he ends up giving us more work, I may need to do something drastic."

Milo cringed. "Please don't."

"Hey." Jack gestured to himself, his orange jumpsuit. "I'm not being paid for any of this."

"Well," Milo said, adjusting his glasses, "to be fair …"

Stitch scurried back into the room. "Make no sense." He grumbled to himself as he scurried down the wall onto the counter. With ease he jumped to bare areas so as not to disturb anything. The alien opened the cabinets, inspecting the few dishes that were still present, some nice China. The alien sniffed, licked at them, and then held his fore-claw to his mouth, thinking. He hmm'd long and hard.

"Something up, little guy?" Jack tried.

Stitch's response was " _Choota_ ," but it seemed he was speaking more to himself than any other Fable. He climbed up the cabinet, not bothering to shut the small doors, and moved along the wall into the bedroom. Milo, seemingly intrigued, made his way to the cabinets Stitch had just inspected. Jack made his way over, too. He folded his arms, looking over Milo's shoulder. A typical China set as far as he could tell. They were really nice, though. Were they stolen or something?

"Huh." Something seemed to click for Milo as well. His attention shifted to the emptied shelving around the China.

"Yeah." Jack gestured to the ground and counter where broken dishes resided. "It's lucky this stuff survived." Milo sharply turned to Jack, enough to make the Fable take a step back. "What?"

A funny look passed over Milo's face, an incredulous smile of sorts. "You said lucky."

"Uh-huh." Jack dragged his vowels out. "Have you seen this apartment? He probably didn't own too many nice things. So it's lucky they weren't ruined…" Jack trailed off. A fuzzy thought began to become clear.

From the other room, Stitch exclaimed, " _Ikata!_ "

"Stitch!" Milo raised his voice. "We need to contact Silver."

"No kidding." Jack folded his arms and leaned against the counter. "I just remembered, we never got dinner." He held his hands over his stomach to further emphasize his point.

" _Naga_ problemo." This time Stitch peeked his head through the door and held up a credit card Jack was pretty sure did not belong to the alien. "Stitch order pizza. Silver's treat."

His cackles were drowned out by Milo thumping his head against the cabinet.

(Ya drank with demons straight from Hell)

The headache finally died away. Whether it was due to having more food and water in his system or the antibiotics kicking in, Jim couldn't say. Whatever the case, he was relieved. He had one less thing bothering him. He almost wished he could call back Elsa and use her ice magic to numb his wounds, but that wouldn't solve anything. At least Silver was serving as a distraction of sorts.

The sheriff was seated in the chair Elsa once resided in, though scooted back a pace or two to make room for the larger Fable. In his mechanical hand he held his large cup of coffee. He probably was using that arm because it didn't really get tired holding an object up for long periods of time. Jim had no intention of ever losing any of his limbs, but there were some benefits to robotic enhancements.

"Ye think yer ready to talk, yet?" Silver asked as gently as he could. "Not ter pressure or anythin', but I need ter get yer story, an' I have a bit of a night ahead o' me. O' course, I could do so in the morn', but I'd much rather know whose head I need ter be tearin' off." He grinned despite the fact the threat he played off as a joke didn't translate.

Jim exhaled long and slow. That certainly was the question of the evening. Honestly he wasn't inclined to answer, but that wasn't going to help anyone. "Yeah … I'll talk. Just, give me a moment."

Silver leaned back in his chair as he switched his mug to his organic hand. Jim was curious for less than a second when the gears of the robotic arm turned and it pulled out a recording device from within itself. It occurred to Jim that after all these years, he still didn't know how many gadgets the thing had.

"Naveen needed my help."

"Naveen?" Silver leaned forward and interrupted despite himself. "Ye've seen Naveen?"

Jim shook his head. "Not since Tuesday." He made a move to squeeze the bridge of his nose, but the pain in his wrist was too present so he breathed through the impulse. "I don't know what happened to him, but … Mim mentioned a thing or two about it." It hurt to say her name.

The Sheriff nearly dropped his coffee. "Wait, Mim? Ye don' mean Mad Madam Mim!" Jim felt heat crawl up from his neck to his cheeks. The shame was more potent than he had anticipated. "Aw, Jimbo! What the blazes were ye doin' with her for? Ye know she was kicked out of the Seventh Floor fer a reason. She's more addled than the Cheshire Cat."

"Silver, really don't want to hear it." Jim groaned. He took another moment to try a different tactic to explain what happened. He still wasn't entirely sure what did. Or maybe it was more that he didn't want to believe what had happened did. It felt too much like a dream, and he really did not care to talk about himself in general, let alone about a subject this difficult. "I didn't … I didn't know it was her, okay? She was, she was disguised."

"Disguised?"

This time Jim knew he had turned red from embarrassment and he hated it. The idea that he had had any attraction toward the woman made him disgusted with himself. "She was …" he searched for the right word. "Younger."

He could tell if the situation were less serious Silver would be laughing.

"But, I knew something was off after the first date! And, and I only went on it after talking with Naveen, and he introduced us and –"

"Jimbo," Silver interrupted again, and Jim sighed, both irritated and relieved the sheriff had done so. "I'm sorry, but ye need to explain more about yer interactions with Naveen. I didn' even know ye were in contact. Ya know he's not exactly the most reliable of Fables ter be getting' involved with."

"I'm aware. Especially after all this. I just …" Jim took another deep breath. It was story time. "We ran into each other at _The Pub_ back in October and it was, it was a rough night. He was moaning about Tiana, how he messed up that relationship. I had a few extra drinks in me …" Jim shook his head at the memory. "Anyways, I mentioned a thing or two about …" The sentence wouldn't finish itself. "I could just relate, I guess. About struggling with the women you want, you know? Only Naveen, man, next time I see him I'm going to kick his ass."

If Silver's silence triggered anything for Jim, he pretended not to notice for he continued.

"Fast forward to about a month ago and Naveen pops up at my place and says he has a girl. Took me a moment to remember we had ever spoken about the matter. I tell him I'm not interested. But he did the thing where he talks around you and says he's going to do one thing but really he's just trying to get you to do something for his benefit. Don't get me wrong, I saw into it. But I just assumed he owed a random girl a date and was pawning her off to me. I didn't realize how much he was trying to screw me over. At least at first."

Jim shut his eyes tight, wishing he didn't have to say what he was going to, but he knew where the story was leading and Silver needed to know. He could feel a wave of anger from the Sheriff who was in tune to the younger Fable's struggle. Jim opened his eyes and sipped down a large gulp of water before continuing.

"I went on a blind date. Blown away. Could give Ariel a run for her money with that voice of hers. And her looks …" Jim shook his head. "Of course it was magic-induced. I know that now. Anyways, I enjoyed our dinner so I took her out again a few days later. Our second date didn't feel right. Looking back I realize she didn't actually say all that much. Talked a lot. Didn't say much. And what can I say, I'm attracted to powerful women with a bit more logic in their head. So I didn't ask her out again. Then a … week later? Naveen appears at my place again and wants to know why I haven't gone out with her again. Freaked out. I got pissed and told him off. Then I was traveling, as you know." Silver nodded. "And when I came back … a day or two later I was abducted."

"By Mad Madam Mim."

"I didn't know who she was yet. I was coming back from Elsa's office – just checked in – when I was attacked. It reminded me of my artifact-testing days. When I helped you and Merlin, and the rest were analyzing the Class A magical items in the Basement."

"She cast a spell on ye."

"And like a novice I left my protective gear at home." Jim shook his and paused. He didn't care for the next part of the story. "I woke up with my hands and feet tied to a bed."

The Sheriff hissed, "Merciful Heavens." His mechanical eye shifted from gold to red. For once, Jim felt less alarmed and more validated.

"I checked the ropes she used. Some sort of metal-based material, but they were coated in purple and poison to trigger burns if I tried to escape. It was then I got to see … more of her. She went on about not liking that I stopped our game. She recently lost her other one and she was a 'sore loser.' She didn't want to lose two games, so she abducted me."

"Do ye know if she meant Naveen?"

Jim shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. As far as I could observe, they definitely had some tensions – he avoided being in the same room. Something was up. Another reason I tried to end things. Didn't help… The days were … long." Recent memories of purple hair brushing across his face, unwanted touch of skin, and that awful shrill laugh danced through his mind. He winced. "Last night when she released my shackles to let me use the bathroom, I was able to … distract her. Then incapacitated her. Got ahold of some tweezers she had in her cupboard. Turned out it was magic. I was rusty, but able to use some techniques I picked up from my testing days, and managed to undo my chains. Tore down the curtain and managed to make my way here."

Silver rested his hand on Jim's shoulder, his natural eye enraged. "Ye mark me words. I'll see ter her payin'. She won' get away with this."

Jim attempted a smile. "Yeah, well I'd feel better if she didn't live in this building. I thought she was kicked out of the Seventh Floor. Why does she still live there?"

Silver scratched the back of his neck. "The core members felt it would be too cruel ter kick her out o' her own home. And they felt it'd be safer to keep her close. Keep an eye on her."

The irony was not lost on either of them.

"Believe me, I'll be havin' a word with the lot o' them."

Jim bobbed his head, otherwise feeling he had nothing more he wished to say. He had little energy left in him and dwelling on his past week would stress him further. He opted for a quiet, "Thanks," in response.

Silver smiled sadly, then reached his hand up to Jim's head and ruffled his hair as if he were 15 again. Nostalgia washed over the adventurer, and he could tell the same occurred for the ex-pirate. Somehow times seemed simpler when they were enemies on a ship trying to outwit one another. Those were the days.

The sheriff stood and called out, "Baymax!" And the large robot wobbled in on cue.

"You requested my presence?"

"I'll need ye ter watch over Jim. Ye have yer fightin' chip installed, or do I need ter get Hiro?"

"There is no need. Hiro forgot to retrieve the device after his last installation, so I am ready to defend for the sake of Jim's health." Jim tensed, sensing that Silver was going to leave. He really did feel young again. Vulnerable. Even though he knew Baymax had defensive programs installed, including an intricate stronghold against magical beings, he wasn't sure how safe he felt.

"Alrigh' then." Silver at least appeared to feel some regret, having to leave. "I'm afraid I'm goin' ter have ter leave ye here, Jimbo."

The injured Fable's smile was weak in effort and enthusiasm. "I know."

"I'm…" Jim watched Silver struggle with his words. It wasn't too often he saw this side of the ex-pirate. The words he uttered here were the most difficult, yet most honest for the old Fable to utter. "I'm glad yer all right."

That time Jim did smile fully. "Heh, me too."

His hair was mussed once more before Silver left. Jim mildly wondered who the sheriff was off to see first: Tiana, or Mad Madam Mim.

"I believe it is time to change your dressing and re-apply the ointment."

Somehow that seemed to answer his slight pondering. Silver was a man who liked to follow a very intentional plan, but if something more pressing is at hand, he's all for making the necessary changes to adapt accordingly.

He wondered if Silver would manage to follow laws set in place 300 years ago, or if he would be so inclined to take matters into his own hands.

(They almost nearly won as well)

The ex-pirate stood outside apartment 708 and bellowed, "Mim, ye better open up righ' now!" Warrant be damned, he had more than enough cause to have her arrest. Oh he hoped she would resist. Give him reason to knock her into next week.

Silence.

"Mim! There's no use hidin'. I know what ye did, despicable it is, and if ye know what's good fer ya, you'll come out wit' yer hands up!"

Nothing still.

He held up his mechanical arm, switched to gun mode, and held his hand on the trigger. Carefully Silver pressed his ear to the door.

Nothing.

"She went out to play." A familiar voice purred. Despite Silver's recognition, he still jumped when the dark pink, striped cat appeared out of nowhere, floating above the doorway.

"Cheshire, ye best not be talkin' about Mim."

"Hmm," the cat rolled over onto his back, scratching his stomach. "Is there someone else you'd rather talk about?"

Silver regretted his words already. He took a couple steps back from the door. "No. Get back ter her; what do ye know about her?"

The Cheshire Cat tilted his head about 180 degrees past any capacity a normal feline would have. "Who?"

Silver opted not to take the bait and took out his frustration on the door to Mad Madam Mim's by blasting it open. Smoke filled the entirety of the hallway; debris shot through the dust. The cat tumbled through the air, more propelled by the pressure than anything else. He Woohoo'd as he passed the alien's head. Silver shouted he was entering the apartment, despite knowing by this point Mad Madam Mim was mostly likely not anywhere near. He steeled himself as he entered.

Night vision-mode kicked into his mechanical eye upon entry. The area was dark save for light from the hallway and candles further inside. He coughed into his hand despite himself. He could hear the floating cat coughing as well, though much more theatrical.

Exploring was alarmingly fruitful. He found a forest, dozens of dead animals – even more embalmed, boards in place to block the windows, and a blood trail that when followed led to the bedroom. There Silver discovered a hidden trapdoor which revealed another floor beneath. Given the barren room save for the bed with chains, it was safe to assume this was where Jim had been held captive. The sheriff had to hold a hand over his nose to block the smell.

He was sure to take pictures using his phone. Evidence. He bagged one of the chains and the used sheets as well.

Silver climbed back up the steps, marveling at what he saw. The extra space Mim had accumulated also caught his attention. Expansion spells were in place to fit a large living area in a smaller space. Many of the Seventh Floor had spells for such magic, but they were supposed to be registered with the Basement. Clearly holding young Fable males hostage was not her only flavor of crime.

Silver noticed the Cheshire Cat was slithering his way around the furniture, so he asked, "Ye have any idea where Mim is? She has some charges agains' her an' I may have to just hold the Seventh Floor accountable fer harborin' her."

The cat cocked his head to the side. His smile seemed to grow larger. "Hickory dickory doc, _the little cat was shell-shocked. Her toy was gone and so was the fun, hickory dickory doc."_

He wanted to throttle the thing. A new take on an old nursery rhyme? Not helpful. Important member of the Seventh Floor or not, the magical feline got on his nerves. Silver turned his back to the Fable, curious about the jacket that was draped across the back of one of the chairs in her kitchenette. He knew Jim well enough that this would not be the style of clothing he would wear. Maybe this was Mim's, but something in his gut said this belonged to someone else. For good measure he bagged the jacket as well. Stitch could have a look at the item.

" _Hickory dickory doc, the cat took an angry walk. She wanted someone to pay, they took her play thing away, hickory dickory doc_."

Silver slowed in his rummaging. Wait…

" _Hickory dickory doc, she marched up to a frog for small talk. Little does the frog know the danger that grows, hickory dickory doc."_

The sheriff whirled around to face the chanting Cheshire cat. That smile seemed only to widen.

" _Hickory dickory doc, the frog is dragged to the chopping block. She could have been saved, but the sheriff was dazed..._ "

Silver bolted out the door.

"Tiana!"

Even as Silver bolted up the stairs to the eleventh floor, the chanting of the Cheshire cat rung in his ears.

" _Hickory dickory doc_."

(They threw a rope around your neck)

 **a/n:** Here comes chapter 2! I promise in future chapters, not _all_ of them are going to end on cliffhangers. I suppose it's necessary for this first arc (which hopefully will be completed in the next chapter).

The update schedule, as you may be able to discern, will be about once a month, due to going through a vigorous editing process with my two Betas, and the amount of time it takes the write each chapter. However, it wouldn't be as good.

Do share your feedback as I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions.

Cheers!


	3. 9 to 5

**Pairings:** For the most part canon. Eventual Jelsa, but beforehand there will possibly be others.

 **Rating:** R/M because people are dying so censorship is a much lesser issue of debate

 **Disclaimer:** Send your appreciation and respect to the minds of Disney, DreamWorks, Bluth, and pretty much any animation company that is not me. The original concept of this story is not mine: Fables belongs to DC/Vertigo Comics. I'm simply reinterpreting a pre-existing story, like pretty much everyone else on this website. Song and lyrics, "9 to 5," is by Dolly Parton.

 **Thanks:** To SashaWren and IGdude117 because my writing is by no means perfect and there's always something to improve. Seriously, give them major props and thank you's. And I would also like to extend thanks to _Sharkohen, cartoonlover44, Flail Whale_ (sorry for the lack of "." but the site was fighting me), and _Guest_ for your reviews. Your support means a lot!

Cheers

Chapter Three: "The Pot and The Kettle"

Or

"9 to 5"

Tiana could not help but list all the things she could have been doing at that moment instead, even as Elsa attempted to diplomatically reason the necessity of Tiana's removal from work to residing in the sheriff's office. Such tasks included running the kitchen – checking in with the head chef Remy, making sure all was running smoothly, noting the list of foods needed for restocking the following day, listing popular new food items, evaluating some of the newer Fable's waiting abilities – conducting similar check-ins with her other restaurants, scheduling an appointment with her financial adviser, visiting all those familiar faces she adores, and then of course, most importantly, becoming very intimate with her _bed_.

A common commentary on her life was that she was always running around too much, forgetting to enjoy life, so this could feasibly stand for a nice break.

Except that her ex-husband is missing in a way that had her frustratingly concerned for the man and she is waiting to be questioned as a potential suspect.

"Silver _knows_ I didn't do anythin', right Elsa?" Tiana half asked, half demanded. The Fable leaned against the sheriff's desk, not quite in the mood to sit.

"What?" Elsa looked over at her wide eyes. Her surprise simmered to a smile and slight shake of her head. "Oh, of course. He knows you. We all do. As I said – and he has said – this is simply a formality. An inconveniently timed formality –"

" _Mmm_ hm."

"– But that is all it is, I'm sure." Elsa paused and offered a smirk, "And if not, I do happen to be Deputy Mayor; I have some pull on the matter."

At that Tiana gave a wry smile. "Thanks, Elsa, though I am still not too happy about this."

Elsa covered her mouth with her hand as she yawned, "Yes, I wouldn't exactly be pleased in your position, either." She shook her head and assumed an expression as if she were less tired than she just demonstrated.

"You're tired."

"No," Elsa waved her off. "I'm fine." Tiana smirked as the Snow Queen yawned again as if her body meant to call her out on her fib.

"You need more sleep."

"Pot, meet Kettle," Elsa smirked.

Tiana crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, but I happen to be needed here. You have the luxury to be finished for the night. Or are you lookin' for overtime?"

At that Elsa hesitated, "Well, no."

"Okay then!" Tiana pointed out the door. "You've had a full day of complaining Fables, a missing Fable, and a once-missing-now-found Fable in medical care and I'm sure are plenty disappointed about Anna not bein' around – it's time for bed."

She could see from the way Elsa bit her lip and her eyes flickered to the door that she had won. "Tiana, it wouldn't be right to leave you here alone."

"You're sweet," Tiana playfully bumped her hip into Elsa's, "But get out of here. No reason for both of us to suffer." She hip bumped her again and Elsa giggled. "Get goin'."

"Okay, okay," Elsa slipped on her coat and purse before giving Tiana a hug. The two Fables embraced for a couple beats; Tiana had not realized until touching how much she was in desperate need of a hug. It had been a long day.

"Thanks Elsa," Tiana smiled, still holding her. "I needed that."

Elsa squeezed her tighter. "Me too."

They broke apart, shared a look and then a laugh.

"In all seriousness," Tiana sighed, "Go live the dream and get a good night's rest."

The deputy mayor hung in the doorway, "I will," and with a sleepy smile shut the door behind her.

Tiana shook her head to herself. "That girl …"

Elsa did have a point though. She allowed herself to finally release the yawn she had withheld. Tiana could stand to follow her own advice regarding sleep schedules. Too bad the coffee from earlier had long since worn off. Luckily, this was Silver's office which meant a coffee machine had to be in there somewhere. "He won't mind…" She reasoned out loud. The sheriff had mooched enough food and drink off of her over the years he would have to have some nerve to not allow for some sharing. Especially when he abducted her from work at an hour growing more ungodly by the minute.

She looked around: file cabinets, a window to the city outside, a closet … She made her way to the door.

"Here you are."

As she thought, amidst the clutter of papers, mugs, alcohol, ("No way this is legal," she muttered) and random knickknacks, a coffee machine was indeed present. The Fable opened the lid and was sorely disappointed to find it missed a coffee packet. She picked it up and set it down on Silver's desk, mindful to find a spot not covered in his things.

In a matter of minutes she found an outlet embedded in the desk, a clean-looking mug (though she did wipe it down with her scarf for good measure), a packet of instant coffee, and had her drink brewing. Waiting for it proved a nice distraction from what she was technically being accused of and the fact that she was virtually alone in a building at night and admittedly creeped out.

At least there was more than enough objects in the room for her to occupy herself with. Somehow she was surprised to find a collection of pictures on his desk. The largest was a black and white photograph portrait of himself in sheriff garb from 1843. He had long been the sheriff by this point, but everyone had been excited to try out the image-taking device that had recently been invented. She was impressed he had kept it so well preserved, considering its age, but she imagined he probably had a spell or two cast to maintain its appearance.

The shorter yet wider photograph was a more recent photograph taken August 28th, 1963 – one of her personal proudest moments – when she was accompanied by Silver, Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, Jack, Esmerelda, Merlin, Milo, a Glamoured Stitch, Pocahontas, and John Smith to attend Reverend Martin Luther King Jr's speech at the Lincoln Memorial. The shot was of them huddled together, sweaty, tired, and excited amongst the mass of people. The thrum of change and promise had sprung them into action, and as a Fable who was so affected by the society in which they resided, she welcomed the change encouraged by the Natives. It was also one of the first times such a large group made up of important individuals to the Fable community had departed Fabletown. The Mayor had been quite upset but the importance of the matter had not been lost at him. The exceptionally happy expression on Elsa's face indicated she was still relatively new to the Deputy Mayor position. Tiana knew she was not the only one who held the opinion that even though Elsa was doing a fairly good job, her energy should really be spent on her artistic endeavors which enliven her so.

The third and last photograph did not surprise Tiana in the least. It was an old photograph of Jim, long before she met him, evidently a proud graduate from the Naval Academy he had attended on his world. Or one of them. Jim, Silver, Jumba, Pleakley, and Stitch were among the few who had traveled to different planets – albeit in a very different manner – before The Great Conqueror.

Tiana smiled softly, recognizing for the first time in a while how sentimental Silver actually was. The beep of the coffee brewer captured her attention.

"Mm, hello drink number five …" She joked to herself as she lifted up the mug.

Tiana began to take a sip but it was too hot. She pouted and began to lower it when a familiar-sounding walk caught her attention.

She perked as the door opened, "Elsa, what part of –?" She faltered as it was very much not the Deputy Mayor at the door but a Fable she had never before come into contact with.

"Are, are you lost?" She asked carefully.

The foreign woman had long purple hair, large eyes and lips, an elegant long and pointed nose, exceptionally pale, and a waist narrow enough to elicit staring. The attire she wore was alarmingly similar to the style Elsa wore: professional white, tight, and elegant. However all elegance was gone given she was voluptuous enough to potentially give Holli Would a run for her money. Somehow they even had the same airs about them: up to no good.

The mysterious woman's expression dropped into a terrifying snarl. "You!"

Her long fingers were like claws as they reached across Silver's desk, meaning to grab at her. Tiana yelped and stumbled back, held up by the wall. A splash of her drink hit her fingers and she winced. Was this what Elsa normally had to deal with?

"I, I'm sorry, do I know you?" Tiana stammered. Even though the woman clearly reacted to her, Tiana still fumbled for some rational reason. "Are you looking for the sheriff? Cause it's after hours so you should probably come back – _oh my God what is that?_ "

She screamed as purple steam began to rise off of the woman. Her skin bubbled and burst leaving dark marks scattered where cloth did not cover. Tiana screamed all the louder when the woman's face actually _peeled away_ to reveal an older, heavier, and much more recognizable Fable.

"Mad Madam Mim!" Tiana said in horrified shock.

The witch cackled and leaned across the desk, seething with energy. "Happy to see me, dearie?"

Tiana wondered why she had been so eager to shoo away Elsa.

"Well I'm glad to see you. Very glad." The witch reached out and poked Tiana harshly in the chest. She sneered in some satisfaction as Tiana flinched. "I'm gonna give ye the count of ten."

"I'm sorry, what?" Tiana held her drink tightly as if it were a safety blanket.

Mim leaned over the desk, gripping the sides with her boney fingers. "I wouldn't stand there. Ye best get movin'." Tiana's blood ran cold. "After all, this won't be much fun of a game if you don't give me something to chase." And it occurred to the Fable that Mim was not only growing large at a fast rate, but was changing form into a very large and pink crocodile.

Tiana whimpered as she stepped back as if that movement alone would create enough distance between her and the mad Fable.

Mim's cackling voice carried through her reptile form, "Let's see if you taste as good as you cook," and lunged over the desk, knocking various objects to the floor.

Tiana screamed, flailed her arms, and without thinking thrust the contents of the borrowed mug into Mim's eyes. The witch roared and Tiana scrambled past the thrashing beast.

"You meanie! You cheat! I'll get you!"

The Fable hitched up the skirt of her dress, kicked off her heels (her second favorite she inwardly moaned) and ran as fast as she could.

"Help!" She yelled, looking for any sign of light in the offices she past. Yet she knew logically that everyone had gone home. The only other occupants who could help her were on the Seventh Floor, the Third Floor, or in the Basement.

"Help!" She called out again, louder. Tiana spotted the stairs, 20 paces ahead, and focused her intent.

"Better run faster!" Mim called out from behind her. The crocodile's heavy steps carried with a _thump thump thump_ across the wooden floor.

Tiana screamed again. "No, no, no this is not happening! There is no way I'm goin' out like this."

The witch's laughter could not drown out the vibrations of her foreboding steps.

"Help!"

"Oh yes, call all you want." Mim sang. "Mean time, I'm gettin' closer."

Tiana used the doorway as leveraged to propel herself into the stairway. Steps be damned, she jumped down to the half level between floors screaming.

"Tiana?" Relief flooded in her at the sound of Silver yelling her name, though she continued to run as he was several stories down.

"Silver!" She cried and could hear his steps hurrying despite his limp to meet her.

Up above she could hear the witch enter the stairwell and yell, "Mim!"

Silver reached Tiana and grabbed her by her forearm and forced her behind him as he pointed his weaponized mechanical arm at her assailant. "Mim!" He roared.

"No, no," Tiana could hear the witch tsk as she lumbered closer to their level. "You ruined it. You should've said someone else's name."

Silver maintained his volume. "Do I have ter remind ye that attackin' another Fable is agains' the law, and with intent to murder, is punishable by the Cauldron?" Tiana saw Mim come around the corner and was the peculiar image of a Fable crocodile sitting half a floor above pouting.

"I, I didn't actually harm her. Just wanted to scare her is all." Mim said with a nervous tenor as she shifted back into human form.

"Scare me? You said you were gonna eat me!" Tiana cried from behind the sheriff.

He did not seem to hear either of them and Tiana became very aware that his finger had not left the trigger on his arm.

"And I'll have ye know, goin' after Jimbo," his voice lowered to something dangerous and reminiscent of why there was a need for the Forgiveness Act. "That was a mistake."

Even Tiana took an involuntary step back and his aggression was not even directed toward her. From her position she could make out a red light reflected against his upper cheek.

"Uh, Mister Sheriff, sir," Mim held up her hands, backed up a pace or two. "It was all in good fun, yeah? No need to do anything hasty." Silver maintained his stare. The witch fell to hysterics. "It's not fair! Why are ye only punishin' me, eh? She's the one who killed him, not me!"

Tiana and Silver stiffened at her declaration. "Killed?" Tiana breathed. "Someone's dead?" She turned to Silver for verification, but he gave no answer. She thought of the "crime scene" in Naveen's apartment and her blood ran cold. Surely it couldn't be him: he's too popular a Fable to die.

The sheriff's anger was much less palpable, but he still held up the gun. "Mim, don't ye go and try ter blame other Fables. Good Fables. The lass is nothin' like ye! She would never think ter do the things ye do. Now," he used his organic hand to reach into his pocket and pulled out glowing handcuffs. The gun did not waiver. "Ye best be puttin' these on, 'cause I'm takin' ye in. An' I wouldn't recommend resistin' arrest. Ye really don't want ter be givin' me another reason ter do ye in."

The witch groaned dramatically before spitting out, "Fine!" and began to step closer.

Time seemed to slow as a sneer stretched across Mim's face and her fingertips began to glow. Silver widened his stance and leveled his gun. Tiana crouched behind him, covering her ears and closing her eyes. A bang shot off and Tiana flinched despite having braced herself. Tiana dared to open her eyes in time to see the sheriff slam his mechanical arm into the wall, punching in a new hole.

"Blast it all!"

Purple smoke created a haze around them and Mim's body was nowhere to be seen.

Tiana was momentarily caught in a moment of confusion and unease. What to say to the ill-tempered man who currently wielded a gun? Especially when a witch who had done whatever had been done to Jim, and had killed possibly Naveen, just got away. With her powers she could be anywhere. Tiana began to reach her hand out to Silver in comfort when he started to speak.

"Tiana," his voice was surprisingly gentle. "I'm afraid I'm gonna have ter insist ter ye stayin' here now. At least until we find Mim. Otherwise, I'm afraid she'll be gunnin' fer ya, and that's somethin' I won't be allowin'."

Tiana rubbed her arms as if chilled. "Silver, I have work to get to, Fables relyin' on me, I can't just leave them all –" She cut herself off as he held out his normal hand. Tiana had not realized until then she was still half sprawled on the floor. She took it and almost yelped at the ease in which he pulled her to her feet.

"Tell ye what," he guided her hand to the crook of his arm so he may better escort her. "Fight me in the mornin' all ye want, but righ' now, I'm knackered and have a terrible storm brewin' in me that I'd rather not take out on ye. So will ye agree to that, ter wait 'til the morn?"

Tiana knew he could sense her hesitation, for he said, "It'd give me better shut eye, knowin' yer safe."

The number of things she had left to do continued to waver in her mind as she acquiesced. Already she could picture the debate in the morning, him not letting her leave, her employees blowing up her phones with questions and concern. Even more, her long-since-visited apartment felt all the more inviting in that moment, but she valued her life over a familiar bed. She supposed it was warranted for her to stay on the premises for the sake of her neck. At least she would hopefully be able to sleep – if her anxiety and adrenaline did not keep her up.

Maybe this was the universe telling her to not overwork herself so much. Or maybe the universe had nothing to do with any of the passing events and Mim truly was as insane as her name would lead one to believe.

(And the blood starts pumpin')

Elsa awoke that morning feeling surprisingly rested. Perhaps she reached the degree of tired that was so tired, she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. She didn't even remember changing into her nightgown, yet when she awoke, she was indeed dressed in the clothing. She was almost happy until she remembered mid-shower what she was going to return to at work. The Fable had groaned and rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of the water peppering her head. When she realized she was creating hail, she breathed, calmed herself to rid the bathroom of her powers, and finished her shower.

Already she felt done with this week, and it was Tuesday.

She dried herself with a towel, muttering, "At least Jack will –" Elsa cut herself off and her blood ran cold. Oh no. "No, no, no, no, no!" She scrambled into the next room, suddenly realizing she needed to hurry. "I can't believe I forgot! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Those poor guys. How could I do that?" She forgot to bring Milo, Jack, and Stitch dinner last night. "Where's my phone …?" Hair sopping wet, not even half-dressed, she grabbed her phone and dialed.

It rang three times before a very groggy, "Hello?" answered.

"Jack! I am so sorry about last night! I completely forgot – there was an emergency – did you get something to eat? I'll be sure to reimburse you." If she did not feel so awful she would maybe reconsider her offer, considering how much Stitch and Jack could eat.

She could hear Jack moan as he stretched and cracked his neck, "No, no, you're fine. We," he yawned. "We had a late dinner. Stitch … _Silver_ covered for ya so you're good."

Elsa's shoulders almost sagged in relief. "I'm glad. I'm so sorry."

Jack chuckled, "So I heard the first time. Seriously, don't worry about it."

"I feel awful."

"You shouldn't," he said and Elsa couldn't help but smile. She made a call to apologize, and yet this was turning into him consoling her. The male Fable probably guessed she was about to go into another wave of apologies, for he continued with, "Tell you what, how about you come here and bring us all breakfast with extra coffee and we'll consider it even."

Already she was mapping out the rest of her morning to include her new errand. "Deal," She grinned and then frowned, confused. "Wait. You're not all … you're not still in the rented out apartment."

His next chuckle rang with guilt even though he had nothing to apologize for, "Well, it was late…"

"Oh no, Jack!"

"No worries Your Highness, Milo was a perfect gentlemen and took the floor."

"Jack."

"Sleeping in the same bed before the big day? Oh that would be perfectly scandalous! What would my mother think?"

"I'll see you in about twenty-thirty minutes."

"Heh, okay see you then."

Elsa hung up and allowed herself to have a good minute of laughter before she finished dressing for the day. She dressed in typical Elsa fashion: professional yet chic and made her way out her apartment door. She paused to look at the door across the hall belonging to her sister and brother-in-law and thought to herself that she rather missed their morning trip to the local café to grab tea and breakfast. At least she would see them at the Remembrance Day Ball. She had already left Anna and Kristoff the outfits she designed for them in their closet. One of the many traditions they shared.

Few things made her as happy as seeing the look of delight upon her sister's face.

She supposed Milo, Stitch, and Jack would have to do.

Elsa arrived at the apartment with probably more bagels than necessary, plenty of coffee, and hot chocolate for her and Jack. Whatever criticisms she held for the Fable, at least she respected his preferences in drink. She also had food for Jim, but she purposely kept his food out of sight in her tote bag. She knocked on the door and waited a few moments before Jack eagerly answered the door.

Like her, he was a morning person, though his appearance didn't quite indicate it given the mess of his hair and his overall unappealing smell. Elsa cringed a smile as she held out the goodies. "I brought breakfast!"

"Ooh!" Stitch perked up from the knocked over couch. "Mm-mm, Stitch smell coffee," he sniffed at the air and gasped in delight and Elsa felt rather smug. "And, and coconut cake?" She nodded and Stitch intercepted Jack's outstretched hands and scurried off to the small island where a zombie that looked an awful lot like Milo was seated. Stitch began to make quick work of cake, somehow managing to eat and drink at the same time.

"Come on in and welcome to our housewarming," Jack said brightly. "As you can see, we finally got around to decorating!"

"I … can see," she smiled tightly at his joke she found erring toward distasteful. As far as she could tell they were successful in recreating the crime scene: the apartment was a complete mess and covered in blood. How they maintained an appetite was beyond her.

She locked in to the one Fable she dubbed sane – albeit pitiful as well – in the room and called out, "Milo! How are you?"

Milo waved but his forced enthusiasm was overtly palpable. He certainly looked like he was forced to sleep on the floor, if the way he kept stretching and rubbing at his back was any indication.

Stitch reached out as he ate and patted Milo's head. It did not seem to help. Elsa smirked despite feeling more than sympathetic, though that expression dropped as she really took a look around at their surroundings.

"Okay, you know what? No." The trio looked up at her confused. She marched over to the food and snatched it up despite Stitch's protest. "You are not eating here. It's disgusting and I know it's not really Naveen's …" She refrained from finishing the thought. "You've been here long enough. Let's go back to Fable City Hall."

"Aye aye, Your Highness," Jack shrugged, already making his way toward the exit. Milo scrambled to gather his few things and would have fallen if Stitch hadn't snatched his hand out and grabbed the Fable.

"Come on," the blue alien said briskly and scurried after Elsa. She offered Milo another sympathetic look before exiting the door Jack held open with dramatic airs.

With some regret she allowed them into her car. They were covered in dried blood, sweat, and their own stink and she did not exactly have any plastic bags or blankets to put down. It had been awhile since she had last had the inside of her car cleaned – though Anna swears that the only one who ever sees a mess in the immaculate thing is Elsa. The drive itself was less than five minutes.

She drove up to the Fable City Hall Parking Lot entrance and with a wave of her pass was allowed inside. Close to the side entrance was the vacant slot with a sign Reserved for Deputy Mayor she gladly filled.

"Hey, uh, Miss Elsa?" Milo asked hesitantly as they got out of the car. She almost groaned, knowing already what he was going to bring up. "When are we going to hear about the additional parking spaces for the Basement employees? It, it has been a while…"

"Well Milo," she began to recite as she had a dozen times already. "The problem is that your department technically has already met the maximum allotted amount that can be assigned to your department. Right now a hearing is being scheduled, but the Mayor is a busy man." Elsa gave him a pointed look as they entered the building. "Especially so close to the Remembrance Day Ball, never mind Remembrance Day itself. Surely you recall the last time you helped out and how busy that was."

He shuddered at the memory. "Oh boy, I, I remember."

A moment of quiet passed as they arrived at the side elevators. Elsa smiled herself, wistfulness coming over her as she recalled memories of using her magic, creativity, and genuine care for the Fable community to organize such grand parties. The lights, the gowns, the decorations, the music, and the friendships – it was through the job that she met and became close with Fables such as Tiana who was always in charge of catering. Of course she was honored to help out her fellow Fable as Deputy Mayor, but she really felt, well, less free.

Maybe Anna was right: she needed to allow for a more consistent creative outlet during her downtime. Problem was, she pretty much had no downtime these days.

"I, I am sorry for bringing this up," Milo cut through her thoughts.

Jack snorted, "Eh, it's not like you're the only one with complaints."

Stitch nodded, " _Ih_ , Fables so whiny."

Elsa held up her hand and smiled not too tightly, "It's fine. I understand your frustration."

"I just, I have nowhere to park because _some_ of my coworkers are always, well they're always parking these ridiculously large cars and purposely parking them so that spaces are limited and often I can't find a space. The one to get everyone to stop would be Merlin, but he doesn't care because he teleports everywhere! And the last time I proposed a solution to Megamind, he blew up seven vehicles!"

"Oh yeah," Jack laughed. "That was hysterical." He caught Elsa's eye and added, "Oh, but uh, terribly dangerous. Someone could have been hurt."

The elevator door opened.

"As I said," Elsa resumed with her no-nonsense persona she especially reserved for Deputy Mayor matters. "At this point I'm not the one you need to address." They followed her inside as she hit the 3 button. "If you do wish to move anything along, I would speak with the White Rabbit. He's the one keeping track of everyone's schedules… What?"

She realized the three Fables were giving her an odd look.

"Uh, Elsa," Jack said slowly as the elevator rose. "Why are we headed to medical?"

"Oh," if her arms were not filled with food she would have raised her hand to her mouth. "Right, you don't know. I actually am not sure how he would feel about all this company but …"

"What's going on?" Jack pressed.

"Is it, is it Naveen?" Milo asked, hopeful.

Stitch had cast a very irritable look at the bespectacled Fable's question, but refrained from commenting.

"No, no," Elsa shook her head, unsure how much she really could say. "As far as I know Naveen is still missing. No, Jim turned up."

Stitch's ears perked up immediately.

"Wait, what?" Jack gave her a bewildered look. "Back up. Since when was he missing?"

"Probably since Tuesday," Milo supplied. "You know how he's always visiting City Hall – he had just gotten back about a week ago."

" _Ih_."

The doors opened and Elsa took lead again.

"But I thought he-" Jack lowered his voice as Elsa gave him a look he knew all too well meant Quiet Down. "I thought he was off on some diplomatic meeting again."

"No, he wasn't," Elsa whispered and paused in her walking. They stopped as well and huddled around her. She almost felt like some athletic coach conspiring with her players before a match. Or better yet, a mother instructing her children. "So let's, let's try and be … _respectful_ , which means no _yelling_ or one of your _pranks_." She stared down Jack and Stitch.

"Hey," Jack held his hand over his chest, his tone laced with mock, but she could tell he was mildly hurt. "Give us more credit than that. We know there's a time and place for everything."

Stitch bobbed his head fiercely. " _Ih_ , Jim is _Ohana_."

Elsa's suspicions melted. Of course, they were all friends. Stitch's use of the term he cherished so much was a great reminder of that. It wasn't often that Stitch used that term, yet over the centuries she had developed what she considered a strong understanding of his cherishing of that word. He did not use it lightly. It was not as if they really knew what had happened with him anyways – she didn't even know the whole story – so it was not as if they held any ill-intent. They were all friends, and even if they could be oblivious at times, still cared. "I'm sorry, you're right. That was callous. Joking around is not necessarily synonymous with uncouth and immature." That last portion was more her speaking out loud to herself.

She continued walking.

"Though now that I think about it," Jack drawled behind her, "They say laughter is the greatest medicine…"

Elsa would have turned around if not for Milo's quiet request to Jack to stop antagonizing her, and the hairless, broad shouldered doctor who popped his head through the doorway.

"Ah, I thought you might swing by! Just in time, too. I completed Jim's examination so come on in!"

Elsa bowed her head slightly in greeting. "Joshua, thank you."

In the name of courteousness, she offered one of the coffees she had on hand to him which he politely denied. Elsa accepted his refusal and passed the doctor as he perked up and exclaimed the names of her comrades with great enthusiasm, especially for Milo. Dr. Joshua Strongbear Sweet was a pleasant and handsome, fast-talking Fable who was the official doctor on call. She imagined he would put Jim more at ease over Baymax. Still, she was glad the robot was there because last night with Dr. Sweet off the clock, getting Jim the help he needed would have been much more difficult.

The Fable in question was lying in the same bed she left him in the previous night. It was funny – so many hours had passed, yet it felt as if she had never left. The bandages around his injuries were still present, though she could tell from the way they were wrapped and the lack of oils and blood soaked through they were new. His legs were no longer propped up, but were splayed out beneath the hospital sheets. At least there was much more color in his face and he had enough energy that when he saw her he was able to sit up with enthusiasm.

"Elsa!" Jim's eyes creased as he looked to her and then out the door. "It seems you've brought the whole crew to come visit."

"Well I brought their breakfast along with yours," she answered as she seated herself in the same seat she had resided in the previous night. The adventurer sat up a little more as she began to fish in her bag for the bagel reserved for him.

"Wow, thanks," his grin grew at the sight of each additional item she placed in his lap until he had all the condiments, knives, and napkins he could ask for. He brightened even more when she held out his coffee. "You've gotta be kidding me. Coffee, too? That's it, you're perfect."

Elsa wondered if her blush was visible as she cheekily responded, "About time someone noticed. Now I don't have to share these donuts." she met his gaze and raised her brow, "Or coffee."

"I, uh, may have been too hasty with my wording."

"Perhaps."

"I am pretty drugged up."

"Just take the donuts, Hawkins."

"Leave some for Stitch!" The alien catapulted himself onto Jim, startling Elsa and giving the injured Fable a considerable wince in the process. Elsa was quick to hold out the bag once Stitch realized the Deputy Mayor still held custody over the food.

"Choose _one_ ," she instructed and he halted in the midst of closing his claws around several.

With a dramatic pout his ears pinned back to his head, and he muttered, "Fine!" and snatched the bag out of her hands before marching over and seating himself in Jim's lap.

Sometimes she felt that even though Stitch was considered an adult he permanently possessed the brain and cognitive development of a five-year-old.

Chaos suddenly seemed to ensue as Fables clustered into the room, talking over one another. Jack peppered Jim with questions regarding what he had been up to and why he was bandaged like a poorly done mummy, Milo informed him that his presence has been missed and he could have used his help dealing with Silver the other day, and Stitch paused in his own eating to give his own prognosis on Jim's state. Dr. Sweet's laughing warning that everyone should quiet fell on deaf ears. Elsa found herself appreciative of how Jim handled the sudden onslaught of questions despite the discomfort she knew he had for the subject. He knew he was in caring company, and so he was tactful in his answers, and addressed what few questions he could make out.

A kind of thrill jolted through her as Jim caught her eye and smiled, evidently sharing her bemusement over the situation. It felt almost like a private joke.

The moment was interrupted by the sudden drawing of a curtain which had previously separated Jim's cot from the rest of the room. Tiana was dressed in a hospital gown and her coat, probably for decency's sake, and declared, "Y'all could wake the dead with the noise you're makin'!" Elsa stared in confusion.

Milo was the first to speak. "Tiana, are you all right?"

"Are you sick or something?" Jack further pressed. "Or is this the new designated hangout area cause you really could have picked a place with a bit more color." He looked doubtfully at the very white décor and then added with a chuckle for Dr. Sweet's benefit, "No offense."

The doctor in question grinned as he raised his brow. "This coming from the Fable who is so white he could be mistaken for someone with albinism?"

Jack paused then answered solemnly. "Yes."

Tiana snorted and Elsa's attention was redirected from Jack's rendezvous with political correctness.

"That aside," Elsa clasped her hands together, "You still haven't answered."

Tiana shook her head. "I'm fine, really. Just had a bit of a long night." Elsa watched Tiana, Joshua, and Jim collectively shared a look.

Elsa stood and thrust her open palm to her side in frustration. "Something happened. I knew I shouldn't have left."

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Joshua said gently but firmly and rested his hand on Elsa's shoulder.

She was very conscious of his touch on her shoulder, heavy and warm and if it was anyone else, imposing. The doctor had a way of being a little familiar compared to what she was used to. Regardless, she knew he meant well and like most Fables attracted to males, she had harbored a crush for him at one point so she did not mind too much (part of the reason she enjoyed being one of the few to refer to him by first name).

Elsa met his gaze. "You can't control everything and what happened is nobody's fault but Mim's." The doctor paused and added, "Maybe Silver, too," but that aside was mostly unheard, courtesy to the collective "What?" uttered by all occupants previously unaware of her involvement.

"Yeah, her," Jim said darkly and Elsa wondered if the witch had any involvement with what had recently befallen him.

"Perhaps," Milo's voice grew with conviction as others quieted to hear. "It, it would be beneficial to everyone if you could tell us what is going on exactly." He adjusted his glasses. "If, if you don't mind, that is."

Tiana adjusted her shoulders, obviously contemplating her options. Elsa watched as her friend tried to catch Jim's eye, but his gaze was downcast and jaw set since Mim was mentioned.

Joshua shrugged his shoulders and Tiana sighed. "I … I guess I can tell you, at least what happened. With me, at the very least. But I'll tell you one thing, if Naveen been messin' with her, well, I'm not surprised we can't find him."

(The folks like me on the job from 9 to 5)

Unlike Elsa, Silver did not have a good night's sleep. After leaving Tiana in Baymax's care, he set about contacting Yen Sid. The head of the Seventh Floor was supposed to keep tabs on those residing on his floor, so as far as the sheriff was concerned, all events concerning Mim and Jim fell under the sorcerer's responsibility. He used the emergency contact number and there was no answer. Silver would definitely have some choice words with the Fable next he saw him, clarify the meaning of the term " _urgent_ ".

Silver slept in one of the cell cots that night. He was beginning to grow a pattern where, whenever he was on a case, he would lead late nights ending in his passing out on Town Hall premises. Elsa made a passing comment at one point that he might as well make use of the beds for inmates, and since then has done so. Normally the one to wake him in these scenarios would be Kronk, if not, the White Rabbit, but instead he was roughly awakened by his second least favorite magical Fable (Mim only recently had earned herself first place).

The sheriff's eyes shot open as he felt himself suddenly suspended a good three feet above his bed. He yelped, "What the devil?" And began to flail in the air as if he could right himself. "Who –?" He wildly looked around and then narrowed his eyes once realizing who the responsible party was. "Yen Sid," he growled. "Put me down or I'll –!"

Yen Sid gave a flick of his forefinger and Silver found himself voiceless and two seconds from bursting a vein. The sorcerer then snapped his fingers and amidst purple smoke appeared Mim bound by glowing handcuffs. She, too, seemed to be magically inaudible.

The depth of Yen Sid's voice suppressed the sheriff's anger through sheer force. "Sheriff or not, remember to whom you speak."

Silver was momentarily lost until he recalled the rather aggressive messages he left on Yen Sid's machine mere hours earlier.

Yen Sid ushered Mim forward with a sweeping motion of his long, arm, his robes casting a breeze with each movement.

He locked eyes with Silver as he continued, "Do your job, and I will continue to do mine."

And with that, he vanished.

Immediately Silver fell to his bed, uttering an 'oof' in his landing. His rage bubbled up again, only to be momentarily quelled by Mim's quip. "Not to worry, dearie," she said as if they were the closest of friends and had not been locked in combat the previous night. "I hate him, too."

Somehow he did not feel particularly cheered by the fact that they shared similar sentiments regarding the leader of the Seventh Floor. "Mim," he growled as he gripped her from her shackled hands. The witch groaned as he began to steer her out of the cell and down the hall. "Yer under arrest fer kidnappin', possession of magical contraband, unauthorized spells, resistin' arrest, and under the suspicion of the murder of Prince Naveen."

Mim's grumbles ceased at the last charge. "What?" She wriggled in her bonds to no avail. "I didn't kill him! I didn't!"

Silver was only mildly surprised by the witch's protests. Considering the number of times she used to brag about the ways she tortured her past victims, he figured she would have no issue owning up to the crime. Perhaps it was the threat of the Cauldron that triggered her blatant denial.

Then again – he glanced at her as she continued her objections – the more he thought about the style of confinement and torture found in her apartment, the more doubt began to rear its head. He half threw her into the interrogation room and shut the door behind her. Silver entered the Observation Room and flipped on the camera. Even with swine like her, certain protocols needed to be followed.

Silver ran his hand over his face, as if he could rub away his tension and exhaustion. Anna's voice resonated in his mind, recalling the number of times she had advised her sister to conduct breathing exercises to combat stress. Normally he laughed it off and would counter with a recommendation for a good dose of alcohol, but in this moment he decided to take the princess's advice.

Silver held his hands over his large belly, breathing and expanding his torso until it could fill no longer. He held his breath for a moment, and then released. His tension rolled off in a long, drawn out wave. He repeated the process until he felt he was in a better position to engage the Fable in the next room without blasting her head off.

When he entered the interrogation room, Mim was seated, clasping her hands on the desk, jiggling her leg in what he assumed was nerves. If so, it was warranted.

"Now Sheriff…"

"Mim," he closed the door behind him. "I'll have ye know now I'll be havin' a sample of ye DNA fer comparison to the scene of the crime. One of yer crimes, so ye best not be givin' me a hard time, fer I'll give ye a harder one. I tell ya, even for an ex-pirate like me, I'm amazed by how busy ye've been. I almost don't know where ter start."

He slammed his hand on the table, leaning toward her. Mim glared right back.

"So where would you like ter begin first; Why ye abducted Jim or why ye murdered Naveen?"

"I didn't kill him!"

"Of course ye did. Ye know it and I know it. Ye've always been a killer and ye always will be! I'll bet ye did ter Naveen what ye did ter Jim, and once ye were done with Jimbo, ye were goin' ter do the same. Weren't you!"

"No!" Mim shook her head. "Sheriff, I signed the Contract, we all did, and I, okay I may have bent a rule or two …"

"Kidnappin' ain't exactly a bent rule, Mim."

"Okay!" The witch slammed her palms flat on the table. She raised them slowly at Silver's warning glare. "I snagged ponytail boy, I did! That's my bad, but I didn't harm a hair on Naveen's pretty little head."

"Yer lyin', Mim."

"Okay, maybe a hair or two, but I didn't do anything he didn't want himself. I'll have you know, we were enjoying ourselves. Not my fault you goodie types are too, what's the word, _vanilla_ to understand preferences. But it's nobody's business but ours. You're all nosy, you are."

Silver couldn't help it – his jaw dropped as he realized what Mim was insinuating.

The witch leaned back in her chair, smirking as she eyed his robotic arm. "I'd think you would be a bit more open-minded."

He lowered the object of her attention into his lap without thinking. "Are ye tellin' me that ye and Naveen were seein' one another?"

The witch winked. "Oh ho ho ho, you betcha."

Silver thought back to Jim's story, how Naveen pushed him together with Mim, and a story began to construct itself in the sheriff's mind.

"When did ya start seein' each other, exactly?"

"December," she answered immediately.

The sheriff was not sure who he was more impressed with for committing to a relationship that long: Naveen or Mim. Neither were known for their consistency. "So ye've been seein' each other for six months." He couldn't believe the words he just uttered, so he continued with another question that seemed equally ridiculous in this context: "And could ye describe the relationship?"

This question she seemed excited to discuss as she clasped her hands together and wriggled in her seat. "Well, it's mostly for fun, you see. No point if there is none. Poor, handsome sap, positively clueless to how much fun I was having with him. He didn't realize I was me, you see." She winked again.

"Ye disguised yerself."

"What can I say?" Mim shrugged. "You get free drinks when you are not an ugly, old witch. Even more when," she began to strain herself and then stopped. "Ugh, I hate these things." She thrusted her wrists as if she could shake off the glowing handcuffs. "Locked out of my magic – it's inhumane, you know!"

"Plenty o' Fables function just fine without magic," Silver said.

She tsk'd. "Most Fables would be dead without magic."

Silver steered the conversation back. "So ye tricked Naveen into thinkin' ye were a young woman."

"A very sexy woman. Had some nice knockers out to here!" She cupped her hands a good foot away from her chest.

"So when did Naveen figure out ye were lyin'?"

Mim cackled and waved her hand to dismiss Silver's suggestion. "Oh no, he didn't figure it out." Silver raised a brow and she eagerly leaned forward and stage whispered, "You see, I had this plan, this great prank, that I was going to scare him to death!" She laughed. "Midst getting jiggie with it, I was going to transform back, or into a hideous, horrible creature – whatever I felt like, really – and take utter delight in his terror. A marvelous little idea." She dreamily sighed. "It was a great plan. But! I was only going to do it once I was bored, and I almost was, but then he started getting bored, and I wasn't having any of that! Only I could get bored, not him!"

"So you killed him."

"No, I didn't kill him! I decided to try and spice things up some more. I got chains, built the dungeon, acquired some dead animals, but it seemed he had the same idea for experimentation, cause then he introduced me to, uh," she paused and gave the sheriff a fearful look before finishing with, "the Jim boy."

"Are ye sayin' … that Naveen introduced ye ter Jim fer the sake of a, a _threesome_?"

"Well yes," Mim seemed surprised by Silver's incredulousness.

There is a certain degree of stupidity that an individual could take, and Silver in that moment reached his. "So that's why ye abducted Jim?" He yelled. "He wanted none o' it, and so ye kidnapped him?"

"No! That wasn't it!" Mim cowered before him. Silver realized how he was leaning over her, had his fist raised, and the monitor in his brain was beeping a warning that his blood pressure was too high. He begrudgingly seated himself. She hurriedly continued, "I never even touched the subject with Jim! I promise."

"So why'd ye do it? Why'd ye take Jim?"

"To protect him, of course."

The beeping in his head increased in frequency.

" _What?_ "

"I knew it, I knew things were a bit off once Jim left. I had figured it was because Naveen was disappointed we'd have to delay our three-way – oh that rhymed! – because of Jim's business trip. He was all distant, shifty … But I told him, you know, that there would be plenty of opportunities in the future. And there are plenty of other handsome Fables out there, but Naveen was stuck on Jim. He was distracted and distant … the poor thing. But then I was beginning to get bored with him and was thinkin' bout cutting him off. It would be for the best, really. Then I changed my mind once Jim returned and I thought Naveen would be normal and not so complain-y again. But instead ... nothing. He told me he went to go and speak to Jim Tuesday, and I realized that Jim was a little gun-shy, so I went ahead and … sped things up. Nabbed him, figured we could have some fun, and I could surprise Naveen, let him know we're all ready! Then, I go to his place – and it's horrid! Absolutely horrid!"

"Somebody killed Naveen, Sheriff! And a nasty job of it! Makes me so mad. After all that effort I put into him and someone else had all the fun. I didn't even get to watch! And they had no right, whoever it was. If anyone had a right to killing him, it was me. 'Scum of Fabletown,' that means it was personal. A silly reason to do anyone in, if you ask me. Do things for the enjoyment of it!" She chuckled, "And it was such a waste of a death. I should have done it. In my own time. If I wanted to. But I didn't! I didn't want to, so he shouldn't be dead. Anyways, I got out of there, I did. And I knew if Naveen could be killed, the ponytail boy could be in danger, too. Might have been someone going after pretty Fables, or Fables involved with me - so I kept him. Plus he was plenty nice company. Such lovely screams …" She trailed off at the look on Silver's face.

"I knew you'd be on the case! I did! So I kept to scouting the premises, and who do I find in your office waiting? That fancy chef lady, Tiana." Mim wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. "And I realized, she did it! Who else in this town has more of an issue with Naveen? Her! She's just sore cause he is a horny bugger, couldn't handle it. He wanted to keep his being back a secret for a reason – and I bet it was her! He was too scared to tell me. If only he knew who I was, I could have protected him once he told me. But, ya can't do nothing about what you don't know about."

"Tiana didn't do Naveen in," Silver growled.

Mim's eyes were wide. "What?" Her expression shifted to annoyance. "Then why was she in your office, huh?"

"And what ya did ter Jimbo, that wasn't protectin', that was kidnappin'. And if ye were so concerned fer him, ya should have come to me!" Silver jerked his thumb to his chest. "Mim … I've heard enough. The case of Naveen may still be in deep waters, but ye have committed felonies and will now be charged fer kidnapping, aggravated assault, bein' in violation of yer previously instated parole, sexual assault, and resistin' arrest. Not ter mention illegally constructed magical enhancements and spells banned by the Seventh Floor and City Hall since 1920. And fer now, yer gonna sit here," he stood, "but I'll be back."

"Wait!" She called as he walked away. "How, how long will you be? I have nothing to do here. It's no fun without my magic!"

Silver stopped in the doorway. At the sight of his face she silenced herself. "I couldn't give a damn about whether or not yer enjoyin' yerself. I would be a bit more concerned about whether or not I let ye live through this, cause honestly, I haven't decided yet meself."

With that, he shut the door.

Rage like he had not experienced in years rocketed through him. How he managed to sit through that, without others observing, and not kill her was enough for him to seriously consider the existence of a God. Listening to her nonsense, her blatant misunderstanding of a situation, the fallacies in her logic, and most of all, the fact that he believed her. There was no doubt in his mind, she was guilty. But of doing Naveen in? No, that was someone else.

Which brought a whole new series of questions to the case.

Silver made a mental promise that he would make a trip to the Basement to make use of their weapons room so he could fire some shots himself and get rid of this anger. Too much was boiling up.

In the meantime, it was time to pay Jim and Tiana a visit.

When Silver arrived, he was more than surprised to see that a whole crew seemed to have manifested itself. He knew once he saw Elsa he was going to need to have a long conversation with her about what he had uncovered, but not with the extended company present. He opted to communicate with Dr. Sweet, the one who was supposed to be in charge of things around here.

"Sweet," The sheriff half bellowed as he entered. "I didn't know ye be relaxin' that rule o' yers of limited numbers when there be patients in bed." His mechanical eye swiveled over the occupants of the room. For a moment his focus rested on Jack, but he quickly adjusted it back to the doctor before he triggered another dispute. He was still grasping for control of his emotions.

Elsa stood from her seat next to the bed. His mechanical eye swiveled to her, and that hand of hers on the hood of the bed – Jim's bed. "It's my fault. I simply was bringing Jim, and Tiana it seems," Elsa gave the restaurant owner an apologetic look, "Breakfast. I treated the boys as well and so they came along." Her expression hardened, shoulders pulled further back as she declared in her typical This Was My Decision And It Is Final manner; "There was no way I was going to force them to eat in that apartment."

Silver couldn't help it, he deflated a little. Elsa had that effect, though his irritation was still palpable. And he had to admit, her bringing the trio of Fables working on the crime scene analysis did inadvertently give him one less errand to run.

"And I could make an exception for our Deputy Mayor who has done so much for Fabletown." Dr. Sweet said cheerily. "I see no harm as long as Tiana and Jim don't mind – and you all don't exactly make a home for yourself in here."

Even as the guests shook their heads, Silver firmly said, "I'll be seein' they don't. These lads have some reportin' ter do, and then some tests ter conduct. Ain't that right?" Jack huffed loudly as Stitch and Milo nodded. The latter Fable held out a folder, thick with notes and photographs. The sheriff took the folder, flipped through the contents briefly, and then looked up. "Right. Ye lot will be joinin' me in me quarters ter look over this." He waved the contents. "And before ye give me even a peep, I'll tell ye now, ye can eat up there."

Stitch cried, "What?"

Jack muttered with a tone which thinly veiled his displeasure, "Oh great, my favorite hangout."

Tiana spoke over Elsa's, "Come on, Jack" with, "Y'all are acting like a bunch of children. I wouldn't tolerate this sort of behavior at one of my restaurants."

The only Fable of the three who met him with a smile in response was Milo, but Silver caught the disappointed look the bookwork casted to the side when he thought the sheriff was no longer looking.

Not too fond of actually being the bad guy, Silver clasped his hands over his chest dramatically. "Oh, ye be breakin' me ol' heart." His woeful expression dropped, "But we have some serious business ter attend ter, so I guess I'll have ter get over it. Come on, or do I have to kick yer bums into gear for ye?"

Thirty seconds later he was leading the three Fables, toting their breakfasts along, up to his office. It was a good thing Silver enjoyed barking at people to get in line, or his job would have gotten real old real fast long ago. Still, Stitch and Milo were one issue that he easily managed, but Jack was a different one. He had been putting it off as other issues have come up over the years, but it seemed that another encounter was going to occur and soon between the two. Maybe the sooner the better, so no more tension arises. However, there always seems to be something going on these days that there is never really any time. It seems he'll have to make time.

Maybe once this whole Naveen debacle is handled.

Silver unlocked his office and was momentarily surprised by the mess that greeted him until he remembered that it was never cleaned up after the events of the previous night.

"My gosh, Mim did all this?" Silver could hear Milo ask from behind.

The cyborg reached down and picked up a mug, recalling both Tiana's explanation of what occurred and how she defended herself. "Ya, I'd say this be courtesy of the witch." He noticed there was a chip. "Blast it." It had been a gift. His mechanical eye began to seek out the missing piece amidst the mess. "Jack, I change me mind. Head down the hall and grab yer cleanin' supplies. Ye'll start here this mornin'."

"Yeah, this is the opposite of fun," Jack grumbled, but went to retrieve the necessary items.

"Do I look like I'm runnin' a carnival?"

Silver knew the moment after he uttered his retort, he had opened up for a biting comeback, and Jack did not leave him wanting. "I don't know," Jack raised his voice as he walked down the hall as a "courtesy," "With a little effort you could have that whole terrifying clown thing going for you easily. You're scary _and_ not funny!"

Stitch snickered and flicked something off his claws that Silver had no intention of identifying.

"He'll pay fer that bit o' disrespect," Silver promised in a low voice to those remaining in his office. "Now, let's have a look at what ye found, cause if me current theory be right, that blasted witch be tellin' the truth."

(It's enough to drive you crazy)

A quiet buzz seemed to resonate around Tiana as she continued to reside in the hospital. Dr. Sweet had yet to release her, deeming that she was too anxious to return to work. How does one communicate without bursting a blood vessel that her anxiety comes from not visiting her restaurants and overseeing them this morning? She had already taken six calls from various employees inquiring to her whereabouts and expressing concern for her health and safety. After all, Tiana didn't do late. Especially not when it concerns her work that she is so passionate about.

Tiana even made some calls herself, but after varying reassurances that the restaurants were not falling to pieces in her absence she surrendered her phone to Dr. Sweet.

However desirable like water to a gator he may be, he was not winning points with her.

"When was the last time you took a vacation?" The doctor asked as he collected the last remnants of food from Jim, Elsa, and herself. At her silence, he said, "You know, studies show people live longer when they take breaks from their busy schedules."

Tiana shook her head and almost laughed, "Well it's a good thing we seem to be immortal."

"Doesn't mean there are no benefits." He gently tapped his fist to his chest. "It's good for the soul."

"You _should_ probably take a break," Elsa not-so-helpfully offered from the other side of Jim's cot. The deputy mayor looked a little too pleased at the playful scowl Tiana sent in her direction.

"What was that, Miss Kettle?"

"It was a suggestion," Elsa said in her usual diplomatic manner save for the smile almost hidden, "Miss Pot."

Tiana and Elsa shared quiet giggles as Dr. Sweet countered, "Call yourselves pots, kettles, or whatever kind of dishware you like – but it's better for all of us if you can hang tight." Tiana sobered at that. "At least until Silver gets back. Then you can carry on your merry way and work yourself to the bone as you like."

Tiana simmered under his words. She understood, but staying still under pressure had never really been a strong suit for her. The idea of remaining in that building any longer was not exactly comforting, either. She wanted to go, back to her restaurants, where things were normal and no one tries to kill her and the reminder of her ex-husband's fate could be banished from her mind.

"I guess …" Tiana slumped a little in her seated position on the bed. At least she had some extra time to spend with Fables who she normally would need to wait for them to make a reservation or for active coordinating to occur for her to see them.

She and Elsa used to have Sunday walks as their designated time to catch up, and Joshua Sweet was a frequenter of _Tiana's_ , but Jim was a bit of a scarce sighting. As Fabletown's delegate who would travel to other posts around the world, checking in on management, and confirming the safety of portals, he was not around much. The only reason he was in town was because Remembrance Day was only a few days away and all Fables return for the resident holiday.

A bit of a shame, the way he was then greeted.

Tiana surmised as she watched Elsa's torso lean toward Jim's, not quite touching, as she engaged in conversation with the doctor, and the glances the adventurer kept sending in the Snow Queen's direction, that perhaps there was a silver lining to the whole incident.

Then a collection of heavy steps began to sound and Tiana knew they were in for a return of the sheriff and his regular lackeys.

"All right, I've got me a plan," the sheriff bellowed as he entered the room without pause. "An' I'm gonna need the lot o' ye ter cooperate if we're ter get this done right."

"What done?" Tiana, Elsa, and Jim asked collectively.

Jack, Milo, and Stitch entered, huddled near the entrance.

Joshua crossed his large arms and tilted his head to the side. "And what plan is that?"

Tiana watched as Silver didn't even bat an eye. "Well, ter be plain wit' ye, the most o' this I'll be keepin' ter meself." He continued to speak over the air of indignation which emanated from some of the surrounding Fables. "Now, now, this be important. We'll be dealin' with the waste of salt Mim, oh ye can be sure of that. But before we can deal with her," he half growled, "We need ter _deal_ with the Fable who did away with Naveen."

"Wait, you mean it wasn't that crazy woman?" Tiana balked. She looked to Milo to confirm. He nodded, lips pressed tight, expression grim, but said nothing.

"I'm just as surprised as you." Jack shrugged.

Elsa stood. "Wait, who exactly is it that you think is the suspect?"

"What do you need from us?" Jim spoke up amidst the running commentary. Several of the Fables cast him astonished glances at the inclusion of himself. Tiana would have been surprised he had the will to be involved despite the experience he had recently suffered, except that this was Jim. He always had a certain resiliency and strength to survive.

Silver raised his remaining eyebrow in slight surprise at Jim, then softened his gaze. Tiana knew that look.

He answered Elsa first. "It's more of a hunch, ter be honest, but I'm pretty good 'bout me hunches. I have reason ter believe it may not o' been Mim. She's a psychopathic witch, I'll give ye that. But I have new reason ter believe she might not a been the one ter do him in. I'll know by the Remembrance Day Ball fer sure."

"The ball?" Elsa repeated.

Milo stepped forward, "You see, we realized –" Silver held out his arm, silencing the Fable. Tiana caught Jack mouthing to Stitch, ' _What did we realize?_ '

"Careful lad, we're not dockin' the ship just yet." Silver lowered his arm. "I've already spoken with these three," he jerked his thumb to Milo, Jack and Stitch, "and they be knowin' their duties, but Jimbo also be right; I'll be needin' yer cooperation if we're ter confirm me theory."

"What are they doing?" Elsa asked.

"Classified," was Silver's answer.

"So you cannot tell us anything." Elsa's statement was almost a complaint. Tiana didn't blame her. If she was going to be roped into something she would want to know the details.

"Afraid not, me beauty," Silver's slip of the tongue earned him a 'Hey' from Elsa and Jack. "Not 'til I have everything confirmed, but I imagine the wind will clear come three days' time. Trust me."

Elsa nodded.

"Do I really need to be involved?" Tiana asked despite herself. "I mean, I'm busy enough as it is orchestrating catering and everything, I don't have time for any elaborate plans!" And she really had no interest in placing herself in further harm's way. From the way that Naveen's apartment kept being mentioned, she had a feeling his ending had not been clean. If his assailant was going to be at the Remembrance Day Ball, she really did not want to come to a similar end.

"Not ter worry, Tiana, yer involvement should be mostly painless."

"Mostly?" Tiana repeated, incredulous. "What exactly are you going to have me do, hm?"

"I'm goin' ter have ye go with me."

A good long pause sounded as the other occupants of the room processed what was said.

In typical fashion, it was Jack who broke it. "You're asking her on a _date_?" He looked ready to laugh. "Man, that's terrible. You have to wait for the threat of death for an opportunity to –"

Silver looked more than irritable, and maybe a little red, as he loudly spoke over Jack. "Ye've been attacked once already, and while I suspect Mim was actin' by her own accord, if the Fable I be suspectin' is responsible, ye may be in danger. So, I figured it'd be in yer best interest to have some protection without stirring fear at the Ball." At that he looked pointedly at the prankster who still looked like he was holding back laughter. "It also would coordinate well with me overall plan."

"Yeah okay," Jack said as he continued to laugh. "Whatever you say."

Stitch's snicker did not help.

Tiana held her hands in her lap, a little embarrassed herself. She and Elsa made a point of going stag for years, enjoying one another's company and their own responsibilities. Tiana would check in on the kitchen, how everyone was enjoying the food, while the Snow Queen would check on decorations, themes, and that everyone was accommodated as necessary. Of course, since Elsa took the job as deputy mayor the pace had shifted, but the single status had remained and the two were rather comfortable with it as a norm.

The ex-princess couldn't help but look to Elsa as if expressing an apology. Elsa's smile in return more than communicated that Tiana's concern on Elsa's behalf was unnecessary.

"O-okay," Tiana said. "If it will help…" And keep me safe, she thought.

"It will, so I be appreciatin' it," Silver said. He then turned to Elsa and Jim. "Jimbo, ye sure ye want ter be involved in all this? I mean, yer still recoverin' 'n all…"

Jim shook his head. "I can't just sit here and do nothing."

Silver placed his hands on his hips, cocking his head towards the doctor. "Well? What be yer thoughts on this?"

Dr. Sweet pushed himself off from the wall. "If we were dealing with one of the Natives, I would say there was no way. Recovery time would take a couple weeks. However, we're Fables so we heal at an abnormally fast rate."

"And Jim is one of the more well-known Fables in this world," Milo reminded him.

The rest of the Fables nodded as the doctor continued, "Right, which means he'll heal even quicker. At the rate he's going, definitely in time for the Ball. But I still think it's reckless for him to go into anything that could endanger him so soon."

"Mm, that be a good point," Silver used his organic hand to stroke his chin. "But I have a means ter solve that wee problem, too. Elsa, ye should accompany him."

Tiana did not miss that Jack's chuckles immediately came to a halt.

This time it was Elsa and Jim's turns to flush. "I'm sorry, I'm doing what?" Elsa tilted her head, seemed to realize what she had said, and then turned to Jim and said quickly, "I'm sorry, that was rude. I don't mean anything by it, I just –"

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean it. That was unnecessary –"

"Oh fer cryin' out loud," Silver cut in. Tiana had to admit, as much as their somewhat awkward banter was cute, there was a time and a place. "Elsa, out of all the occupants of the room, who do ye think has the best capacity fer protectin' him? Or have ye somehow forgotten after all these years about that little ability o' yours?"

Tiana could see that Elsa was humbled as she clasped her hands together and softly said "Oh. Yes, that is a good point." Tiana could practically hear Elsa inwardly berating herself. She would talk to her friend later. "Okay, then." She looked down to Jim and offered a hesitant smile. "I … guess we're going to the ball, then."

Tiana couldn't see his expression from her position as he answered, "Try not to sound too excited there."

Another wave of apologies and light teasing sounded from the two. Silver continued giving orders to the rest of the occupants, explaining the steps needed to prepare for the days to come. Dr. Sweet was engaged with his own opinions and recommendations on keeping an eye on Jim's health and not pushing him too hard. Milo jotted away, taking notes eagerly as the sheriff recounted the little bit of the plan he would reveal.

Part of Tiana wondered why she couldn't stay near Elsa as well, but Silver had articulated he required her presence for his plan, so she did not press the matter. She continued to keep quiet as she watched Stitch perched himself on Jack's shoulder, and the two silently left the room.

Maybe later she would mention something to Elsa, but probably not. She felt doing so may open a whole can of worms she was not too interested in engaging. Furthermore, Tiana had more pressing concerns, such as her safety at the Remembrance Day Ball and, she spared a glance at Silver, her date.

(It's a rich man's game)

 **a/n:** Apologies for the long wait. Hopefully the length of the chapter will make up for it :)

Happy holidays!


	4. Ballroom Blitz

**Pairings:** For the most part Jelsa, but while it will end up as JackxElsa, that means there will be a little JimxElsa, too.

 **Rating:** R/M because people are dying and so censorship is much less of a debate.

 **Disclaimer:** Send your appreciation and respect to the minds of Disney, DreamWorks, Bluth, and pretty much any animation company that is not me. The original concept of this story is not mine: Fables belongs to DC/Vertigo Comics. I'm simply re-interpreting a pre-existing story, just like pretty much everyone else on this website. Song and lyrics, "Ballroom Blitz," is by the Sweet.

 **Thanks:** To SashaWren and IGDude117 because my writing is by no means perfect and there's always something that can be improved. Seriously, give them major props and thank you's! I also would like to thank my brother, who was patient enough to sit through several readings of two sections of this to help in my drafting. And I would also like to extend thanks to _S Danyal Allen, Kelsocspaatarailka, Trapid, boredminimalist, SharKohen, and Skyline 10_ for your reviews. Your support means so much!

Cheers!

Chapter 4: "One of the Bigger Mistakes A Fable Could Make"

Or

"Ballroom Blitz"

The Remembrance Day Ball was one of Jack's favorite events of the year.

It was the one time of year the Fables of Fabletown moved past their normal lives and came together in celebration. Tiana exhibited the best of her dishes, purposely catered to match the year's current theme. Lumiere and Cogsworth teamed up to organize the various Fables who will showcase their talents, representing culture from their long-lost lands. Those who worked in the Basement removed the collective stick from their bums and allowed themselves to have fun. Jack was able to meet up with friends he was not often able to visit because of scheduling, and relax with those dearest to him.

Jack did often wish to himself, however, that children were allowed to attend the ball, but it was strictly an adults-only event. Considering it began in the evening and continued until midnight, he recognized adhering to his unspoken wish would be inappropriate and unethical. Still, he always felt his spirit recharge when around youthful souls, steaming with imagination and glee – and "youthful" was not exactly a term often used for the almost-immortal Fables. Lately his desire to play with innocents was bubbling.

At least there was always Stitch who, despite his uncanny genius, seemed to be perpetually five.

" _Aloha_ , Jack," the alien in question greeted.

If Jack did not have a century or so under his belt of getting used to the image of a Glamoured Stitch, he would have had great confusion regarding the identity of the individual greeting him. The tall figure, dressed in a sophisticated tuxedo, with his dreadlocks pulled back into a low ponytail, did not exactly resemble the little monster. Even his voice was different as it accommodated different vocal chords. Despite the differences, there was something in the thickness of Stitch's eyebrows, the width of his nose, his crooked smile and rather pointed teeth, and overall arrangement of his facial features that allowed others to see a resemblance in the disguise.

"Hey, bud," Jack returned the greeting. He noticed as Stitch adjusted his coat the alien was concealing a weapon. "What?" He dropped his volume to a whisper as Fables passed them. Jack's cheerful expression and waves did not match his disgruntled, "Wow, you're actually packing."

The disguised alien smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"Man, that's no fair," Jack complained without heart. "What kind of weapon is that, anyways?"

Stitch patted it over his jacket and answered, "Plasma gun."

Jack nodded as if he knew what that actually was. "Plasma gun. Right." He tilted his head as he hinted at a possible way for the two of them to have fun for the evening. "So uh, do those things hurt? 'Cause, I feel like there's a certain individual who might be in desperate need of a haircut. I mean, come on, pony-tails are kind of super lame." He trailed off looking at Stitch's Glamoured hair. "No, no – it looks good on _you_."

Stitch sniggered and flicked his hair, which could pretty much be called a mane, over his shoulder.

Jack continued, "I mean rattails, you know, the pretend ponytails that aren't even made up of a full head of hair."

" _Yuuga_ want Stitch prank _Bootifa Achi-Baba_?"

"Well I don't know if I'd call him that, but yeah, him."

The Glamoured Fable stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Stitch could shoot at head, but Stitch _naga_ clean up mess after." He mimicked pulling a trigger with his fingers, and not-so-tactfully made his version of gun sound effects, and then someone dying rather painfully.

Jack blanched. "Okay. Maybe not the plasma gun then."

"Stitch don't mind."

"You know, I've been charged for a lot at this point, but I don't really want to be an accomplice for murder."

Stitch scoffed as if insulted – which he very well may have been. "Stitch has excellent aim. Stitch will get rid of rattail and not head."

"No buddy, it's okay." Jack backed away and took the movement as an excuse to wander.

Jack's eyes roamed amidst the crowd. While he had been instructed to look for a specific genre of individual, his attention was more directed toward his various comrades. He couldn't help it: there were so many he cared for in one space, he could not help but want to socialize. There was no way he was going to continue to stand by the wall like a bored – and _boring_ – bouncer. The playful Fable informed Stitch he would be back, and took off into the mass of people dressed to the nines.

"Jack, my main prankster man!"

"Kuzco!" Jack greeted the slender Emperor, who was dressed in a fitted, grey tux. As usual, Kuzco's dark hair was moving like something out of a shampoo commercial. He kept tucking it behind his ears to show off his gold and diamond earrings. "How's my favorite party animal?"

"Better if we had some more of that Maine lobster!" Kuzco waved his empty plate, flinging crumbs about. "Jack, I am practically dying over here."

"Oh hush!" The blonde bombshell Charlotte, or Lottie, turned from the group she had been conversing with to add her two cents. Jack had to blink a few times as he took in her bright pink, sequined dress. The skirt was so full and large, people had to give her two extra feet of space. "You're quibblin' louder than a babe without a bottle. Just grab pretty much anythin' from the caterin' table and it will be absolutely divine, courtesy of Tiana! Speaking of which – Jack," she eagerly leaned toward him – at a 45-degree angle to compensate for her clothing – but did nothing to adjust the loud volume of her voice. "You hang out with the sheriff, tell me, is he crushin' on dear Tiana or is he wingmanin' for Jim?"

Jack smiled through the discomfort of her line of questioning. It seemed Jack wasn't the only one who picked up on some tensions. "Heh, sorry Lottie, I'm not really sure I can say."

"Tell me, tell me, tell me!" She bounced on her heels and shook her fists, much like a child throwing a tantrum. Jack laughed, but he privately found the act much more tolerable when it was age appropriate.

A woman who was in Charlotte's original circle of conversation parted to join theirs. Jack was happy to see her: Esmerelda was a beautiful, and amazingly kindhearted Fable with an uncanny knack for knowing what others are feeling, and to speak up for them in a non-instigating manner. "Lottie," She lightly reprimanded. "You should know by now Jack is respectful of others' privacy." Esmerelda's dark lips pulled into a smirk, and she gave Jack a teasing, almost flirtatious, smile. "He's better for mischief, rather than gossip."

"Hah, well said." Jack grinned. "Though I would argue the two aren't mutually exclusive," he concluded with a wink.

Lottie's expression dropped to one of boredom. "Have it your way, hon, but I'm still gonna get me some answers." She looked around and excused herself, wondering, "Now, where's my sugar, Kronk…?"

Jack excused himself, and soon ran into some of his old conspirators. Two handsome Spaniard Fables who were catlike in their movements. If Esmerelda thought Jack was mischievous, she should get a load of these two. "Eyyy, Jack," the blond of the two greeted. He leaned forward, and Jack could almost feel the man's facial hair. Evidently someone had alcohol in his system. "No orange jumpsuit this evening. Silver finally run out of petty crimes to charge you with?"

"That's one possibility." Jack said. He continued to share their gaze despite maintaining the direction of his walk through the crowd. "Or maybe I'm just better at avoiding getting caught, Miguel. We may never really know."

"I'll drink to that!" Miguel laughed and then lifted his arm and snapped his fingers. "And on that note, waiter, let's get some more drinks, shall we?" Yes, he was very drunk.

"Miguel!" The Spaniard who, unlike his partner, had his long, dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail and was much soberer, scowled greatly. "You are not having another drink already."

"Tulio! Lighten up, it's a _holiday_. That means we celebrate!"

Jack left the two to bicker and was stopped, yet again, by another familiar Fable.

He certainly felt popular.

"Greetings Jack!" The leader of the Basement-dwellers, Merlin, regarded him with a cheery expression. The Wizard was one of the few, if only, not dressed in a suit or a dress, but instead wore his usual bright blue robes and matching, pointed hat. "Say, isn't it about time we've seen you in the Basement again? Mighty fine work you did before, and as you know, there is always more progress to be made!"

This was certainly a friendlier reception than Jack was expecting. The last time he had seen Merlin, the Wizard was extraordinarily red in the face. "But I thought you were still mad about …?"

"Oh that? Bah! I've long been over that whole incident." Jack felt his shoulders relax with Merlin's explanation. "Blame myself, really. I should have known not to have left you alone with that Megamind. Always going off on tangent projects with those ridiculous titles …"

"Hey, at least he's having fun, right?"

"Right you are, my boy. Right you are."

Jack chuckled as he continued to weave his way through the crowd of party-goers, greeting all he came across. He liked seeing all of the familiar faces and the general mixed pot of personalities thus brought together. Jack was in the midst of exchanging pleasantries with the Parr family, fist-bumping Dash, when he caught sight of the Fables he had been looking for.

Eager, he began to edge closer with more speed and purpose.

Amidst the mass of Fables, the royals of the lost land of Arendelle were clustered together in conversation. Jack could tell the three were continuing to catch up, sharing stories that had accumulated over the two weeks of Anna and Kristoff's absence. Anna was closest to Jack as he neared the group, pinned to her husband's side, waving her arms and fingers as she conducted a tale. Jack caught a reflection of the ex-iceman's eyes in her thick gold bracelet: warm and crinkled with adoration.

With ease Jack sought out Elsa next and he welcomed the familiar sigh of relief once he registered her. Elsa was pure smiles in the face of her sister. Jack liked to entertain the thought that if she were to ever cease holding her fingers up to her mouth to shield her expression, all around her would be blinded by its sheen.

Jack eagerly, and smoothly if he would say so himself, slipped into the man-sized gap between Elsa and Anna.

"Oh my gosh, Jack!" Anna cut herself off and released her husband to envelop Jack in a warm hug.

"Anna, Kristoff," he added as he looked above Anna's head and grinned at Kristoff, "Welcome back!"

He could feel the giddy chuckles rise as he shared in their excitement, particularly Anna's.

Arendelle's princess pulled away, running her hands down his arms and stopping at his fingers. "Thanks! New Zealand was great! Right, Babe?" She began to swing their arms, which Jack playfully went along with.

"It was pretty amazing," Kristoff agreed.

"Yes," Jack turned to Elsa as she spoke. Her eyes danced up and her right hand elegantly pivoted as if preparing to hold a drink. "Anna's shown me some of the pictures they've taken already. I had forgotten how stunning the country is."

"Oh my gosh, we need to show them to you later!" Anna gushed, and then simmered as she prepared for the possibility of a polite rejection. "I mean, only if you want. I'm sure pictures of boring old us doing couple-y things could be, well, not fun to sit through…"

"What? No, Anna," Jack stopped their swinging arms and squeezed her hands gently. He was aware of Elsa's approving smile out of the corner of his eye. "I would absolutely love to hear more about your trip." As Anna beamed, reassured, he released her hands. Jack considered reaching his arm out to Elsa, but thought better of it and gestured to the two women, particularly their attire. "I take it these are Elsa originals?"

A different sort of smile, both bashful and filled with pride, graced Elsa's face.

Anna spun on her toes in glee as she answered, "Yes!" so that the skirt of her dress flared with life. The cut of the velvet green dress was reminiscent of the style of 1950's America: modest neckline, cinched waist, and full skirt. "Have I mentioned how much I love my super talented sister?"

Elsa giggled as Kristoff said, "You know, I don't think I've ever heard you say anything nice about your sister. Ever." Jack laughed while Anna puckered her lips into a playful pout, soon broken by a smile that refused to be concealed.

"Excuse me, it is my duty as Elsa's sister to pepper her with doting compliments at all times. It's called _love_ , Kristoff." The three Fables surrounding Anna uttered their own versions of bemused snorts and smiles at her declaration.

Unperturbed, Anna continued, "I mean look!" She leaned toward Jack for him to better inspect. "Look at this detail! Gold trim! Gold! And can you believe how much there is to see in these super adorable, tiny little flowers?" As Anna straightened so she could hold out Kristoff's sleeves to show how they matched, Jack corrected his earlier thought regarding her neckline: perhaps not so modest, considering how it hung low enough for her neck and shoulders to be bare, but compared to Elsa, her attire was tame.

Elsa dropped her gloved hands to her middle, no longer hiding her pleased expression. Jack trailed the journey her fingers took as an excuse to admire, and honestly ogle, the dress she had created for the holiday. In typical Elsa fashion, her deep, ocean blue dress was more fitted than Anna's, and draped elegantly to the floor. Fit aside, Elsa's attire would seem to have more coverage than her sister's, given the high neckline. However, the back of the dress plunged to her hip bone and almost seemed to taunt Jack as he was unable to take up the ghost of an invitation to rest his hand there.

"I'm glad you like them, Anna," Elsa's words were soft, but her feelings glowed strongly.

Anna simmered with equal affection for her sister. "Of course, Elsa. The dress, and Kristoff's suit, are wonderful."

"Yeah," Jack playfully reached out and made a grab for the larger man's jacket. "I want to try it on! Elsa never makes one for me."

Elsa had done a fine job of tailoring a suit to fit Kristoff so that he almost looked comfortable – at least before Jack was trying to strip him down. The three-buttoned, single-breasted black suit jacket formed to Kristoff's broad-shoulder physique. The green tie fastened at his neck was the same color, and perhaps identical material, of Anna's dress. The same could be said for the gold pocket square expertly folded in his coat pocket. If the body language of Anna and Kristoff was not enough of an indicator of their marital status, their matching clothes would get the job done.

After a moment's a struggle and a threat of tickling, Kristoff relented with an exaggerated sigh and permitted Jack to slip on the clothing. Without a second thought, Jack threw his own, old jacket at Kristoff's head before trying on the new article. He slipped into the jacket and was almost instantly swimming in it, but the fact that it was with Elsa's care it came into existence, he had little intention of taking it off any time soon. Also, seeing Kristoff's blatant struggle to fit into Jack's jacket was too priceless to bring to a halt.

"I don't think that's _quite_ your size," Elsa said slowly.

"Which one are you talking to?" Anna asked.

After a moment of consideration, Elsa answered, "Both of them."

"Well," Jack adjusted the collar as he imagined a member of the Mafia or James Bond would, "it's not every day you get to wear an Elsa original. And you guys have, like, 300 at least. So I'm keeping this." He jokingly began to step away – saw they had someone joining them – and quickly rooted himself.

"You know Kristoff," Jim molded himself to Elsa's other side, and with great dexterity distributed glasses of wine to the ex-residents of Arendelle, starting with Elsa and ending with Kristoff. "If you needed a jacket that bad, you could have just asked me." Once finished he rested his hand on the small of Elsa's back and leaned into her and muttered something unintelligible with the loud jazz music and voices circulating around them.

A secret smile spread across her face.

Kristoff sighed and physically struggled to point to Jack as he began to explain, "This guy –"

Jack spoke over Kristoff's would-be response. "I think he looks sexy." He growled for good measure. "Just look at those muscles!" And to be fair, considering Jack's jacket sleeves would not go past Kristoff's forearms, his biceps were plenty accentuated.

"While you're admiring him," Jim grinned and gestured with his glass to Kristoff, and then migrated his glass over to Elsa and Anna, "I can't take my eyes off these two."

Both Elsa and Anna were immediately smiling, and Anna playfully smacked Elsa's arm. "Oh, what a charmer!" Elsa flushed under the implied compliment and glanced towards Jim. He smiled at her upon catching her gaze.

Jack muttered, "I think they look good, too." But much quieter and with less gusto.

As Jack quieted, Anna and Kristoff engaged Jim in further conversation, thanking him for getting their drinks earlier and expressing inquiries regarding the state of his recovery. Jack could tell from the way Anna lightly bounced on her toes that she was bursting at the seam with questions regarding Jim and Elsa, but for the sake of her sister walked around the subject. He also noticed the princess's eyes glancing in his direction at a frequency more than above coincidence. He played oblivious and avoided her gaze.

Instead, Jack watched Elsa; how her shoulders had been stiff since Jim returned, how her upper torso tilted in Jim's direction, and how she slowly traced her thumb up and down the stem of her wine glass as Jim spoke. Furthermore, Jack was not exactly pleased with the fact that Jim's hand still occupied Elsa's back.

Jack interrupted Jim mid-sentence. "So, Astroboy," Jim's cordial expression dropped to a challenging smirk at the use of one of the many special nicknames Jack held just for him. "How come you all are armed and I'm not?"

Anna cupped half her mouth and stage whispered, "Uh, does this have to do with the case that you can't really talk about but will be taking up your time at the Ball and we should all be super-duper careful about?"

Elsa and Jim shared a look as Elsa answered, "Yes."

Anna bit her lip in a fashion Jack had seen many times done by Elsa. "And this is a case where you think guns will be needed? Like, right here?" She looked around nervously.

The Snow Queen placed a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder. "I highly doubt they'll get any use. They're more of a precaution."

Anna slumped in relief, "Oh, good." Though Jack could tell Arendelle's princess was not entirely convinced, she trusted her sister.

Kristoff addressed Jack's initial question and crossed his arms. "Why exactly would you expect to be given one? Aren't you still doing volunteer work for crimes you've committed against Fabletown?" Kristoff asked despite already knowing the answer. Anna's cheeks puffed to physically hold back a snort.

Jack smirked, "Uh, I'd say they're not so much as crimes against Fabletown as they are methods of enlivening the community."

Elsa matched Jack's expression, reached out to pat his cheek, and lightly stated, "And it is that attitude that sustains the cleanliness of my office." Her touch left the feeling of white-hot firecrackers across his skin. Jack was mildly surprised, yet pleased she initiated contact with him. Elsa was seldom physically familiar with others (particularly in public), save her sister, but perhaps it was the festive mood of the Fables aiding her shift in boundaries. Or the chardonnay.

Jack laughed, along with the other members of their social circle. "I know. I'm like one of those sexy men you hire to clean your pool. But better."

Elsa raised a brow, "And how's that?"

"Uh, I work for free? Hel _lo_." He sang. More snickers from the majority of the group, and he continued, "Which is why I definitely need some protection here. If there are Fables snatching up the attractive bachelors of Fabletown, who is in more danger than me?" Jack gestured to his face and then ran his fingers down his torso. "This face, this body: this is grade A material we're working with here."

"Oh yes, definitely," Anna said, though whether or not she was agreeing with Jack or carrying on with the joke was up for debate. Elsa rested her face lightly in her hands and Kristoff sent her a mock sympathetic look. Jim scoffed and shook his head, though a smile was fighting its way across his face.

Jack saw an opening.

"Jim, you dashing spaceman, you," He slipped between Jim and Elsa and swung his arm over the diplomat's shoulder. "You have to protect me!" He could feel behind him Jim's hand part from Elsa's torso.

Jim stepped forward in a move to situate himself back next to Elsa. "I think you'll be fine."

Jack caught Jim's arm, half yelled, "Quick! To the dance floor!" And took off running as quick as he could with a resisting captive. He called over his shoulder, "We'll be safe there!" Jack could just make out Elsa yelling his name in protest and Kristoff asking for his coat back.

The struggle Jim provided was short-lived, and soon they slipped through their friends with as much ease as possible when hundreds of Fables are crowded in one room. Those who noticed the duo laughed and applauded, especially once they arrived in front of the live band playing where the dance floor resided.

One of the few Fables who had removed their Glamour upon entering the Fables-only establishment, Louis the crocodile, was playing his trumpet to a low, sultry rhythm alongside Roger Radcliffe, who was on the piano. The dance floor was purely made up of couples pinned to one another, and Jack mildly wondered if he had made a mistake. He talked over his doubts and said over the music to Jim, "Right here, right now, dance off!"

Jim laughed and said, "Yeah, no. If we're going to do this, we're going to do this right." And gestured to the dancing couples around them.

Jack took hold of Jim's hands and began swinging him around. Jim had to keep his stance wide to keep up with the uncoordinated jerks and thrusts Jack was leading him with. At one point Jim was nearly thrown into Aladdin and Jasmine, the prince and princess of Agrabah, and the two sent them dirty looks in warning. Another close encounter was with Metrocity's heroes Megamind and Roxane Ritchie, but their reaction was much more bemused. It did not take too long for couples to give Jack and Jim a wider birth when they could help it to avoid collision. Eventually, Jack had the wherewithal to cut their movements by half so he was leading Jim in a mostly slow rock from side-to-side.

Jack nodded his head toward the Fables surrounding them and declared, "These guys have nothing on us."

Jim playfully rolled his eyes and tilted his head toward the musicians on stage, "Sure. You know you're off-tempo, right?"

Jack clicked his tongue. "Uh, I'm dancing to the rhythm of our turgid affair, fueled by the beat of our hearts. Duh." He almost stumbled again, but the two caught themselves.

Jim loftily corrected in a tone that reminded Jack greatly of Kristoff, "Did you say 'turgid' affair? I don't think you used that word correctly."

Jack ignored his comment. "Milo will be heartbroken, but clearly our love is simply too strong to ignore. We'll have to be gentle, when we break the news to him."

Jim snorted and shut his eyes as his shoulders shook with laughter. Jack was grinning and laughing himself, and the two managed to knock into the mostly ex-conmen: Miguel and Tulio. The two couples righted themselves, and the latter were mirroring cheeky grins as they gave Jim and Jack a good and suggestive onceover.

"Okay," Jim took advantage of Jack's distraction from the minor collision to tear his hands away from him. "I think it's my turn."

Jack was momentarily confused, and managed a quick, "Wait, what?" as Jim guided Jack's right hand to his left so that they were palm-to-palm, and Jack's left hand to Jim's right forearm. Jack was suddenly aware as Jim placed his right hand on Jack's back, and the two were almost chest-to-chest, that he might have made a mistake.

Miguel uttered a flirtatious purr at the pair.

"He does like to see a man take initiative," Tulio supplied with a laugh.

Jack had a close view of Jim giving the couple a suave smirk and wink. Jim then faced Jack so he could feel the heat of the diplomat's breath as he said with confidence, "I'm going to lead."

As if on cue, the flavor of music shifted with the glide of piano keys, and Jack found himself carried into a waltz. The unasked question that began to form in his mind was quickly silenced from the onslaught of recollections of Jim on the dance floor over the centuries. Silver's voice echoed from hundreds of occasions where he would loudly brag about Jim's talents, one of which being able to dance. From what Jack had picked up over the years, at the Naval Academy Jim had attended before the Great Conqueror's invasion, he had been required to study the art and had kept up his learning as a diplomat for Fabletown.

Jack kept himself tilted away from his partner, despite the strain on his upper back and neck, as he was suddenly significantly less enthusiastic with his position. He felt rather uncomfortable with Jim's breath on him, even if it wasn't a bad smell. He was not too fond of the fact that he was stepping between Jim's legs, and Jim was stepping between his own, and that their pelvises were pretty much touching. He was not too thrilled with the fact that he could tell Jim's chest felt like a rock under his clothes since Jack's own chest was pressed up against it. He also did not like that even through the layers of jacket and collared shirt, he could feel Jim's thick bicep flexing to a degree that left him making mental comparisons to his own. For good measure, Jack pulled his shoulders back and hoped his own muscles would be just as, if not more, visible to onlookers. Alas, the oversized jacket gave him the appearance of a child trying on his father's clothes.

"You know," Jack said in a voice he hoped sounded as lighthearted as before, "Milo does have quite the temper. This would probably set him off. Real jealous type."

"I think we'll be okay," Jim's smirk seemed permanently etched into his face at this point; especially once he spun them around so Jack had a good view over Jim's shoulder of Milo who was amidst the crowd watching and laughing into his glass so hard he started choking on his drink.

"What a brave face he's put on," Jack sighed.

"He has more courage than most give credit," Jim said and Jack was mildly surprised by the casual, but earnest compliment Jim paid the bespectacled Fable.

"Yeah, he is pretty cool." Jack agreed as they pivoted again. His view shifted so that different Fables came into view, particularly the three they had previously resided with. Kristoff's previous annoyance with losing his jacket seemed to be lost at the sight of their antics, and his smile refused to break; Anna leaned against her husband, holding her stomach and laughing without restraint; and Elsa held both her own and Jim's glass in either hand, and was watching them with a mixture of glee and disbelief he could feel from afar.

Jack could also tell, from the way her eyes expertly followed their movements as they traveled across the floor, and the thoughtful smile adorned on her face, she was impressed.

But not with him.

He had most definitely made a mistake.

(I'd like to tell you everything I see)

Tiana knew she should have shot down Silver when he asked for her help in whatever it was that he had planned for this evening. Thirty minutes in and there was absolutely no sign of the sheriff. Normally she was more than patient when it came to individuals with incredibly busy schedules, but he had asked her: therefore, she was the one doing him the favor. So the least he could do is show up on time!

She had even delegated this evening! She had placed Kronk in charge of catering as he had a knack for working in the kitchen – she was still playfully sore Elsa had snagged him for the secretary job. Tiana was glad Kronk was able to step in, but now she was left with little to do. Twice she migrated to the kitchens to see where she could lend a hand, but things were running so smoothly, she acknowledged even her presence would be unnecessary and redundant.

Instead, she took her time greeting and mildly catching up with Fables. It was a perfectly wonderful pastime that fueled her love of people, but after the fifth time she was asked about the sheriff's whereabouts and if she had been stood up, she decided to try to take some sort of initiative.

Stitch was the first she was able to locate, leaning up against the wall and scanning the crowd intently. He gave her a small salute when she approached him.

" _Ohufi_ , Tiana," Stitch greeted once she was within hearing range.

Tiana smiled and said hello, assuming that what Stitch had said was a greeting of some sort. "Have you seen Silver?"

Stitch shook his head, not taking his eyes off the dance floor. "Stitch _naga_ see Bossman."

She exhaled long and slow and took a position next to the disguised alien. "Well he sure knows how to keep a woman waitin'."

Stitch shrugged his shoulders but otherwise said nothing. A puff of air escaped Tiana's lips.

The two were quiet for a short time. Tiana assumed Stitch was uncomfortable with any conversation that would consist of badmouthing his superior, and therefore did not press the matter. No need to cause further tension among Fables, especially when whoever killed Naveen was somewhere on the premises. She peered further into the crowd of people, picking out all the familiar faces donned in beautiful clothes and clustered in groups of companionship. Here or there she could pick out someone she didn't quite recognize, such as a man with wild red hair and a ridiculously large hat (indoors, no less!) speaking with the White Rabbit, but there were so many Fables, even after all these years, she could not know all of them. While many had done deeds before arriving in this world not so savory, the idea that someone would do something terrible now … it was unsettling.

She rubbed her arms.

"You don't think somethin's wrong, do you?"

Stitch broke away from his vigil and finally looked at Tiana. She found it fascinating how his mannerisms carried over into his Glamoured form: in this case she found familiarity in his sigh, and his motion to look up at her despite the fact that he currently towered over her. "Silver is _okie-taka_. Silver checking few things, then will be here as Tiana's _boojiboo_."

Now that was a term Tiana was familiar with. "This isn't a date. We're not dating. This right here, is business."

Stitch raised a brow as he looked her up and down. " _Okie-taka_ , Tiana."

Tiana scowled and lightly stroked her loose curls. She knew how she looked: while she always put effort into her appearance, for Remembrance Day she enjoyed pampering herself with some extra _umph._ For the event she had gone natural, literally and figuratively letting her hair down for the event. Tiana also opted to shift in her color palette and wear a red fringed dress from her flapper days. She purposely wore it, as it was fun to move in and Lottie had mentioned within the past year how she wanted to see Tiana in it again. "I am proud to say I am dressing up for myself." Her gold hoop earrings tickled her neck as she tilted her head. "So kindly don't go makin' assumptions."

He held up his hands in defense, but his skeptical expression did not drop.

Tiana checked her rose gold watch. It was almost time for the Ceremonial Reading. Other Fables seemed to come to the same realization, for many were beginning to drift toward the stage where the Mayor would replace the live band.

"I'm gonna go look for Elsa. You haven't seen her by any chance, have you?" Even if they weren't one another's unofficial dates this year, she still wanted to share in the company of her friend. The idea of listening to the sermon would feel incomplete without Elsa.

Stitch pointed towards the crowd surrounding the dance floor. She should have just checked herself considering the time: it was right in front of the stage.

Tiana said, "Thank you. And do send Silver in my direction when you see him," and made her way over.

Searching for Elsa was not as difficult as Tiana initially feared. While there were plenty of blondes making up the space to confuse her with, the only one who had fairer hair was Jack or those who reached physical old age before the magic of Fable status encompassed their being. Tiana tapped Elsa and Anna on the shoulders and was gifted with hello's and hugs and then an invitation to watch the spectacle that had captured their attention.

Instead of some sort of spectacular, yet ill-placed dance off as Tiana would have expected, Jack and Jim were engaged in ballroom dancing. She did not know much about dancing, but their movements at least looked good to her. It was also easy for her to deduce that Jim was taking the lead; if not from the means he physically steered them, then the playful taunt stretched across his face compared to Jack's pout that surfaced between bouts of forced laughter.

"Poor Jack," Tiana sympathized.

Anna shrugged, "To be fair, it was Jack who dragged Jim out here, so this is _sort_ of karma."

"If you say so…" Tiana watched as Jack struggled to push back his oversized sleeve despite the fact that his arms were otherwise occupied. "Remind me next year to help him find a more fitted coat." As far as she was concerned, that thing flopping about him was not doing him any favors.

"Actually," Kristoff held up a jacket that was too small for him to wear and she put two-and-two together before he finished, "Jack insisted we trade. And by 'insisted,' I mean pretty much stole my jacket and chucked _this_ at me." He shook the item for good measure.

"Jack wanted an Elsa original." Anna explained as she elbowed her sister. Tiana noted her friend had a slight frown, which turned into a grimace once Elsa turned to Tiana. She didn't need any exchange of words to know Elsa's take on the matter. She wondered how much Elsa was mentally berating herself for not giving Jack his own. Tiana honestly had privately wondered why Elsa never made something for him over the years, but figured it was none of her business and never posed the question.

"It is understandable; your clothes are always lovely in design," Tiana said lightly. She gave Kristoff a sympathetic look. "I'm sure he'll give it back."

Tiana and the Fables around her gradually picked up on the dwindling music. Those who had been dancing stilled in front of the stage, and the rest of the Fables began to fill in the space. The group met Jack and Jim, the two shared quick greetings with Tiana, and then redirected their attention forward.

The two musicians on stage bowed together, then fair-haired Englishman, Roger, stood to full height while Louis, a rotund alligator, quickly packed away his instrument.

Roger approached the podium situated center stage, and the establishment quieted. He cleared his throat as his long, slender fingers adjusted his tie. "I hope you all enjoyed that, Ladies and Gentlemen. Me and the ol' chap here certainly had a good time."

The crocodile waved to the crowd at the reference to himself. Fables applauded.

Tiana beamed up at her old companion. Louis seemed as at home on stage playing music as she did running her restaurants. Even though they were far from their home world, he was able to make his dream to play music for others a reality.

Roger continued, "I would now like to invite our Mayor on stage for our traditional, annual reading. Come on down, Sir."

Tiana cheered alongside the rest of the Fables as a flash of white flew over their heads. A few gasps and chuckles were mixed in with the noise as hair and clothes were adjusted to accommodate for the unexpected breeze. Elsa grumbled something next to her, but amidst the noise, there was no way for Tiana to make out her words. Knowing the Deputy Mayor, she probably uttered a long-since exhausted complaint regarding the Mayor who was all show, little action.

The Mayor gently landed behind the podium and bent over to shake hands with Roger Radcliffe. The ruggedly handsome man was larger than life, easily towering over all other humanoid Fables. Roger's hand was maybe half the size of the Mayor's as far as Tiana could tell. The two musicians took their leave as the Mayor faced the crowd, adjusted the fit of his white, three-button suit and tie, and then ran his hands through his styled, thick brown hair. With a confident smile, he waved.

The name "Metro Man" was chorused throughout the building by its inhabitants.

"Citizens of Fabletown," his deep voice boomed with the aid of his own strength and the mic in front of him. "Welcome to our 300th Anniversary of Remembrance Day. To commemorate the occasion, may I begin with opening _The Book_."

Metro Man held up a golden book five and a half inches thick. _The Book_ held their history, their rules, and the Sacred Reading. All quieted in its presence. He set it back down on the podium and flipped to the first few pages where Tiana knew the Sacred Reading resided.

"Once we were a thousand separate kingdoms, worlds, and times, spread over a hundred worlds. We were kings and cobblers. Wizards or woodcarvers. Spacemen and time-travelers. We had our sinners, our saints, and our blatant social climbers. And from Emperors to adventurers, we were, for the most part, strangers to one another." He paused for a breath. "It took an invasion to unite us."

The collected audience bowed their heads.

"Beyond the farthest shores of even Neverland, the Great Conqueror lived in a remote kingdom, ignored by other powers as his strength and ambitions grew over the long centuries. Some say he was a mere woodland fairy while others claimed he was once a God – thrown down from the vast Heavens when his corruptions had become too great for his lofty brethren to tolerate. Whatever his true origins, he grew into a dark thing of infinite hunger. And after he'd conquered his own lands, sentencing each of its former kings to death, he turned his unquenchable appetite in our direction.

"When the Land of the Lions fell we tisk-tisked and tut-tutted in our homes … sad for the fates of those unfortunate souls, but we weren't tempted to intervene. After all, they were nothing but self-ruled animals, and ever so far away. It wasn't our business. Then the kingdom of Camelot fell, and again, we did nothing, because we always found Arthur to be too young for the crown, and it was thus expected his country would fall under his rule."

Those close to Merlin spared the rarely quiet wizard a glance. He removed his glasses to better wipe his watering eyes.

"And one by one, our scattered lands fell under the Great Conqueror's dominion, swallowed up into his ever growing empire. Had we banded together early, we might have been able to stop him. By the time we realized that he wasn't merely interested in conquering _that_ land, or _those_ people – that he was coming after all of us – it was too late. He'd grown too powerful. Many of us didn't have the chance to run.

"Some of us survived. Too few. Alone, or in small groups, over the span of many years – of lifetimes – we hid and ran and avoided capture. We lived as outlaws and phantoms. Until we could make our way here, to this dreary mundane place: the one world the Great Conqueror seemed to take no interest in.

"And here, united by our common enemy, we learned to set aside old grudges. We forgave our many grievances to make covenant with each other. And now, predator and prey, prince and pauper, we are all of a single community – allied in our undying memory of the homelands and the unshakable determination that one day we will return to win those lands free of the hated one.

"Elsewhere throughout the city, tonight in private homes … and in the upstate homes, where our more inhuman members dwell … and our sister towns around the world … other glasses are raised, by those who couldn't be with us here tonight but are still citizens of Fabletown, and are equally determined never to forget."

Metro Man raised his gaze from the thick text and he picked up his drink, "Ladies and gentlemen, lift your glasses and join me, please, in drinking this toast. To the Homelands."

Tiana chorused with the rest of the Fables, "To the Homelands," and sipped her wine with a satisfactory gulp. The _Amerone_ spun a web of rich flavors in her mouth – she could almost taste coffee, or maybe raspberry – until it settled on a very bitter aftertaste. She rotated her wrist to create a small whirlpool in the glass. The thought in her mind was that the taste was perhaps more appropriate for their circumstance than she had initially intended.

She downed another sip of her drink and excused herself to catch up with Louis. Tiana wanted to appreciate and compliment his playing as always, but even more, she had a sudden urge to catch up with a Fable from her home world.

(Cause she thinks she's the passionate one)

The street was mostly empty outside of Fable City Hall. A few people were outside smoking cigarettes, while the valet had previously situated himself on the other side of the entrance to avoid the smoke. The young-looking Fable made a few swipes in the air, play fighting a make-believe foe. Silver recognized the boy as Taran, a scrawny Fable whose head was up in the clouds frequently enough that holding down a job long since proved difficult. He also held great resentment toward many since the Black Cauldron was taken out of his hands. A bad case of immaturity and entitlement, Silver reckoned. Last he had heard the lad was working part time at one of Tiana's restaurants.

Silver heaved himself out of his truck, minding the step down with his mechanical leg, and Taran stilled. Eagerly, and a little bashfully, he greeted the ex-pirate and held his hand out for Silver's car keys. Silver righted himself and dumped them in Taran's much smaller hands. He thought to himself the boy could use a few more callouses.

"Thank you, Sheriff," Taran's smile was forced as he played with the keys in his hands.

Silver tucked his dress shirt for the third time that night. "Me givin' ye me keys is not somethin' ter thank me for." He held up his arms, balled his hands into fists, and held them up as if he were to begin to box. "Ye want ter thank me, how bout learnin' the proper way ter fight. Hold up yer hands like this. Way ya doin' it, ye'd sooner win a dance with a fairy!"

Taran flushed and poorly concealed his grumble with another: "Thank you, Sheriff." Silver grinned but would not leave Taran alone until he repeated the motion to the ex-pirate's satisfaction.

Eventually Silver patted him roughly on the shoulder, "Ye practice just like that, lad. Do ye some good." His laugh resembled a dog's bark as he waved to the grumbling valet and entered the establishment.

Every year Silver found himself impressed with the transformation of the inside of Fable City Hall. Gone were the walls filled with organized memorabilia, plaques in the name of the Mayor, and Kronk's welcome desk, and instead blue and gold decorations covered the walls and ceiling. The double doors to the ball room were wide open, and a heavyset gentleman in a brown suit broke away from his conversation with an upright, talking white dog with glasses.

"Come in, come in, John," the usher Cogsworth spoke with more familiarity than necessary. "Awfully late you know." Cogsworth seemed to realize his slip, for he hastily put on a bright smile and added, "Not that that's a problem, of course! I, I'm sure you have a plenty good reason to have kept Mademoiselle Tiana waiting. Not that it's that late, but the Ceremonial Reading is over, as well as the official thank you's and appreciations and …"

Silver brushed past Cogsworth.

Fables tended to react in one of two ways when they saw him: fearful or friendly. There was very little in-between. The majority of those he towered over made room for him like oil from water and avoided his gaze or offered meek hellos. Those who worked in close quarters with him in Fable City Hall, or frequented _The Pub_ almost as much as he, were much warmer in their greetings. He had long since stopped trying to campaign for the public's affection on a mass basis, but that didn't stop him from trying when he had a more one-on-one opportunities.

"Silver!" He slowed at the sound of the doctor, Joshua's, voice amidst the crowd.

Joshua offered him a one-armed hug in greeting. The younger, thinner Hiro approached alongside the doctor. The two were sipping beer.

"Sweet, and the Lil' Tyke," Silver's greeted with a broad smile. Hiro scowled. Silver's smile broadened. "I didn' know Tiana be servin' the good drink."

Joshua smiled in turn, though his quick glance to the side and uncomfortable chuckle spelled out mild guilt. "Well, she didn't."

"We snuck it in." Hiro said proudly. He opened his jacket to reveal a concealed paper bag. "Local stuff. Way cooler than stuffy, old wine."

Silver held out his hand, "So I'll be havin' that."

Hiro's expression dropped. "What? Aw, come on!" He didn't resist as Silver took it from his hands.

"Yeh dummy. Ye just showed an officer of the law, the sheriff, an alcoholic beverage ye snuck into a government building. What'd ye expect?" The Sheriff rolled down the top of the bag and sipped from the open bottle. He downed three good gulps, smacked his lips, and belched. Better now than in the presence of women. "Tastes mighty fine, Sweet. Though not partic'larly sweet." He chuckled at his own joke. "This be some o' yer homebrew, right?" He handed it back to a disgusted Hiro.

"You've got a good memory for beer, Silver," Dr. Sweet nodded. "Yeah, it's from my stock."

"Good man."

"Whatever," Hiro shoved the drink back into Silver's hands. "Why'd you drink straight from it, man? Gross …" He stormed off.

The two remaining Fables shared laughter at Hiro's expense. After a moment of light mirth, Joshua cleared his throat. "He wasn't exactly wrong: that was nasty. But, I have too much at home to care."

"I'd drink ter that, but I've seem to run out meself." Sweet joined Silver in his chuckles as the sheriff held up his empty hands. "Plus, I should be gettin' ter Tiana: late it be."

"Not a problem," Sweet patted Silver's shoulder. "I just came over to say hi. And to give you a head's up I was reimbursed for the empty blood bags."

Silver frowned, processing what the doctor said. "Did Elsa do that? I be under the impression we had an accord: on account of it bein' a murder investigation, and blood transfusions aren't a regular thing, ye were givin' us them ter use out o' the good o' yer heart."

Joshua shook his head and waved his hand. "No, no, I mean the ones that went missing about what, half a year ago? Remember that? A couple of dozen gone. I thought Baymax maybe misplaced them, but the robot had no memory, and Hiro would hear none of it. I know it wasn't the most interesting or pressing of cases, but I thought you'd like to know. One less thing to worry about."

Silver was silent, long enough for Joshua to ask, "Is everything all right?"

The large man shook himself out of his thoughts. He clapped Joshua on the shoulder, and with a brightness he hadn't felt in the longest time, declared, "I t'ink everythin' be about ter be. Now, I best be off. Tiana's been waitin' long enough."

"No kidding. I'll catch up with you later."

"And if not tonight, there be a good chance ye'll find me at _The Pub_."

Locating Tiana proved easy thanks to Kronk's loud and boisterous voice that included her name in conversation. He, and the tall, ginger bodybuilder Hercules, were beacons amidst all the Fables. As Silver neared, he found Tiana was indeed present as he had hoped, as well as Jack. She wore a rich red dress that danced around her at the smallest breath of movement. Silver thought to himself that his old crew would not believe the beauty he was going to have on his arm this night. To his advantage, she seemed a little bored from the manner she kept sipping from her glass and looking at no one. He didn't blame her. The conversation had drifted to workouts regimes by the time he had arrived.

"I tell you, it's difficult finding weights that work for our strength on this world." Kronk's upbeat tone did not match the content of his words. "If I didn't have Hercules' gym, I'd have to go back to benching fallen trees. Let me tell you, there's nothing quite like trying to balance a tree above your head."

"How about an 18-wheeler?" Hercules countered.

"Haha, I doubt I could lift that, but I see your point," Kronk laughed, "We're not all blessed with super strength."

"Yeah," Jack rolled back his shoulders and puffed out his chest. "Be considerate, Herc. Not everyone is as amazingly super buff as you and me." He held up his arm and flexed it, though the muscles were hardly visible under the large jacket he wore.

"There ye be," Silver lumbered over to Tiana. He figured thinking she'd appreciate a break from the muscle heads - and Jack. He waved to the men in the circle and steered her away by holding out his arm and waiting for her to take it. With little hesitation she took him up on his silent offer and they left the group. He noted how her hands seemed so small compared to his limb. It also occurred to him that even though Tiana had gone with him, she did not seem pleased.

"Silver," her right brow was raised high and her lips were pursed. "I was beginning to think I was stood up."

He had hoped she would be less upset with him, though he knew she had every reason to be annoyed. Both of them liked a tight regimen. He wasn't exactly proud he had been delayed. "Me apologies, Tiana. I be held up dealin' with an upset Mim and finishin' with some other things related ter tonight."

Tiana's eyebrows resumed their normal distance above her dark eyes and her lips loosened, but she still was not smiling.

He slowed in his walk as they neared the dance floor. Silver scanned the Fables who occupied the space and was pleased to find Jim and Elsa among those present. He felt rather pleased his pseudo-matchmaking seemed to be working in his, and more importantly, Jim's favor.

Silver turned to Tiana, and enjoyed the fire lit up from beneath her skin. Whether it was from the color of her clothes, or her current annoyance (well the latter he would not actually enjoy), he appreciated the view, and even more her.

"Any way I can make it up ter ye with a dance?"

Silver watched Tiana's edge redirect itself to a prickle of discomfort. She looked at the dancers doubtfully. "I … don't really dance."

He paused in his movements and regarded her closely. "If ye really don't want ter, I'm not gonna force ye. I just figured ye'd enjoy yerself, after havin' ter wait so long fer this stupidly late pirate."

Finally, a small smile, and she admitted, "Silver, I never really learned how. I would slow you down." Tiana's smile and bashfulness seemed to grow, as well as his affection for her.

So he laughed. "Ah, then ye should know, I don't have a lick o' know how ter dance, meself." Then with a wink, he added, "An ye know, if we're on this outin' together, ye might as well call me by me first name."

Tiana's eyelids fluttered in surprise, and then she joined in with her own chuckles once she managed, "If that's what you want, John." He warmed at the way it sounded coming from her. "But why on earth would you suggest dancing, then?"

"Seemed the gent'manly thing ter do. Especially after me late arrival."

"No kiddin'."

What a night. Here he was, a Sheriff with a case pretty much solved, and a beautiful woman on his arm, laughing at his jokes. If only this night had been focused solely on wooing her. But alas, he had business to attend to; business that would require her presence. "But ter be honest wit' ye, if ye have little interest in dancin' I'll be makin' me way up ter the roof. It'd be mighty helpful, if ye'd join me."

Tiana drew away from his touch, and Silver sensed she may have misunderstood his intentions.

"It's precisely fer what will happen on the roof," Silver pointed above them, "in about twenty minutes," he then held up a second finger, "that will require especially your presence," he pointed at Tiana. Her head tilted back. "Out of all presences ter conclude this case."

Tiana's jaw dropped, her lips forming a small 'o'. "You don't mean to say…"

The Sheriff drew back his shoulders, standing to full height, and looked down at her so he could meet her gaze. "That's right. This night, I'll be finishin' this case, and revealin' the culprit who did in Naveen."

(and the man in the back said everyone attack)

Jack found himself surrounded by dozens of muttering, yet curious Fables. At first Silver had Tiana announce that an after-party would take place at the Mayor's penthouse on the roof and Fables were invited to come along if they wished. If it weren't for the fact that Metro Man always hosted an after-party in his penthouse, Jack would have been surprised Silver had gotten permission. The hour was getting late, so those with young ones to get to, or were too tired, were disinclined. However, the active bachelors, bachelorettes, and generally more energetic members of Fabletown were happy to make their appearance. Once on the roof and enough had gathered, Silver seemed to have changed his mind about keeping the case on the down-low, as he publicly revealed information regarding the death of Prince Naveen and how his killer was still at large.

Kronk and Joshua stood on either side of the door to Metro Man's living quarters, as well as the only safe exit from the roof. While no threats were exchanged, no Fable dared to pass through the two large men.

So far "the plan" seemed to be going as expected and Silver was preparing for the great reveal. Jack had thought Silver would have told him who had done it already – Stitch certainly seemed to have an inkling – but it seemed he was going to have to wait along with everybody else.

A little annoyed, Jack would have opted out, but after all the time and energy he had put into the investigation, he definitely wanted to know who killed Naveen. If it wasn't Mim, then who in the world could it be? He, among others, were habitually looking around, trying to pick out any individual who looked suspicious. However, there were just enough Fables present who were not too fond of Naveen and had some questionable history prior to the Forgiveness Act, that Jack had no clue. Stitch and Milo, especially after reconvening with Silver acted like they knew, but Jack chose to believe they were bluffing.

Jack's only other option would be to wait in his room by himself and that would just be no fun at all.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting with growing anticipation along with the rest of the Fables.

The big fatso sure was milking this.

Silver was seated between them and the pool, resting his peg leg on a stool. His jacket and tie were gone, and he had unbuttoned the front of his shirt so his undershirt and large stomach could more comfortably hang. While waiting for the Fables to finish organizing themselves he was using a mechanical toothpick from his robotic arm to pick his teeth.

He did not exactly scream "Sheriff," but then again, he rarely did.

Tiana was seated next to him, and her unease seemed to be growing. Jack waved to her for support, but her response was much less enthusiastic. She kept glancing over at Silver, avoiding looking at the crowd who was increasingly staring at her, and drawing conclusions: if it weren't for her thriving business, all would agree she had the most reason to be scorned. The Sheriff gave Tiana a few comforting pats, but otherwise offered her little instruction.

Finally, Silver heaved himself up to a standing position and the crowd seemed to hold its breath.

"Well," Silver clapped his hands together, then spread them apart, as if welcoming all of them, "This righ' here takes me back. Haven' had a crowd like this listenin' ter me every word since, since before the days o' the Great Conqueror. Feels good, it does."

"Aw come on," Jack voiced his thoughts and what he had a pretty good idea was the collective opinion of all Fables present. "Enough with all the chitchat – get to the good stuff!"

Silver scowled and looked right at him and pointed his mechanical arm at him. "Quiet, boy. The Sheriff be talkin', and this be probably a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Jack couldn't help it, he continued to vocalize his incredulity. "To have a murder case?"

"Nay! This here be every detective's dream: ter have a great big audience, ter have a complicated case, and ter have the opportunity ter have the great reveal. Get to show off how clever me bein', and bring all the clues together fer yeh, and yeh all can ogle at me cleverness. And there be so few chances for such a t'ing, so do be kind as ter indulge me."

Jack stuffed his hands into his pant pockets and closed his mouth.

"Now, Tiana," she looked up to Silver and then stood herself, clearly uncomfortable and confused as to why she needed to be there as well. Jack was a little annoyed on her behalf. The least the Sheriff could have done is clue her in. But then again, despite what others repeatedly said on the Sheriff's behalf, 'compassion' was not a word Jack readily assigned to him. "Do ye see anyone who be lookin' a wee bit familiar?"

She turned to the crowd for the first time that night. Her eyes squinted, clearly not sure who she was supposed to see. Then her eyes bulged, her jaw dropped, and her expression shifted from one of shock to outright fury in less than a second.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

Jack felt movement and a cluster of "hey's" but Stitch moved quickly and soon emerged from the crowd, toting an unwilling Fable with him. The man was struggling greatly, blond curly hair shaking wildly, but it was to no avail with the Glamoured Stitch dragging him along. After all, Stitch could lift three thousand times his own size.

Stitch continued walking and then with very little ceremony tossed the Fable into the pool.

Jack was the only one who emitted a small chuckle.

Tiana and Silver both turned to face the water as well; the restaurant-owner radiating disbelief and a rapidly growing anger, and the Sheriff looking quite pleased with himself.

Jack watched as the Fable reemerged from the water, sputtering as he gasped for air. The man was quite a sight: sopping wet so his clothes hung heavy, his blond wig floating like a drowned rat in the pool while his dark, curly hair was askew, and a large, hooked nose hung awkwardly off his face to reveal his smaller, straighter one.

Prince Naveen lifted himself out of the pool.

Tiana stepped back as he hoisted himself up, whether to avoid being splashed or being near her ex-husband, Jack wasn't sure.

Voices erupted.

"How in all the hells?"

"B-b-b-but there was so much blood!"

"Which we had to clean," Jack grumbled.

"I demand an explanation!"

"Naveen!"

"How did you pull a trick like this?"

"Why did you do this?"

"Tax-payer's money …!"

"Now, now," Naveen ripped the prosthetic nose off his face, winced, and then sheepishly smiled. "It is, not as bad as it seems?"

Tiana was shaking, and Jack did not miss how Silver moved so that he was in-between the ex-spouses. She bit out, "You selfish, egotistical –! We all thought you were dead!"

Naveen used his hands to try and smooth his wet hair down but it sprung back up, to no avail. "Yes, but see, that was kind of the point, no?"

Jack had never in his life seen Tiana want to punch someone.

"Tiana," Silver turned his back on Naveen, placing his thick hands on her shoulders, and gave her a gentle smile worthy of Jack's eye roll. "Ye've played yer part, so if ye'd be kind enough as ter go back to the others, Elsa mayhaps, I can get ter the explainin', of how and why Naveen did all o' this."

Tiana slumped under his hands, said something quiet enough Jack couldn't hear, and did the most elegant trudge Jack had ever seen. A few Fables away, Elsa emerged and embraced her friend with open arms. Jack did not miss the dirty look the Deputy Mayor sent Naveen as she held Tiana, nor Naveen's exaggerated shiver.

Jack oddly enough felt a warm pulse shoot up through his core at the sight of her, and her protective loyalty. That was Elsa.

Silver cleared his throat as he pulled out a flask, tilted his head back, and gulped loudly. Jack could hear Hiro somewhere among the Fables complaining loudly that it was unfair Silver could sneak in a drink without consequences.

"Despite what ye see on tv," Silver started yet another monologue. Jack wished he would finish up already so he wouldn't have to hear him speak. "The typical cop's life can best be described as unending hours of mind-numbering drudgery. Gunfights and car chases are few and far between. They generate so much extra paperwork – and second-guessing by everyone not involved – that no sane cop welcomes such breaks that be the general tedium of police work. An' no honest cop be rich. Learned that the hard way. At least Normal cops be retirin' after twenty to forty years. I've been on the job since the first days o' the Fables in Exile Compact and Forgiveness Act."

"I used to be all fer the action, the thrill o' the chase, the fight, the bounty." Something in Silver's eyes seemed to glint, and Jack's jaw clenched hard enough he could feel his gums begin to protest. "An' from all o' these t'ings I've collected a great deal many o' stories. Me pals down at _The Pub,_ they can attest to that. But fer centuries now, me tales have grown stale. So I figure it's about time I add a new one ter the mix."

"It all started back on Monday. White Rabbit comes chargin' in, all in a tizzy, tellin' me somethin's gone on with Naveen. As we made our way down ter Naveen's apartment, ol' White explained he had awoken that morn to a voicemail from Naveen, asking him to come down and arrange fer him ter leave Fabletown, as he feared he'd soon be feedin' the fishes if he didn't leave. I'll admit, I was already suspicious of the man. Ain't the firs' time Naveen has tried ter come up with some stink ter make waves. Yet as the legally bound Fables we are, we arrived at Naveen's apartment, kicked down the door after no answer, and came upon the scene o' the crime."

"Immediately I sent fer Stitch ter come down and take a look, begin ter analyze the situation, an' as I be waitin', I found meself not acceptin' this shipwreck at firs' line o' sight. It made no sense ter me why, out o' all the members o' government who could o' helped him, he reached out ter White Rabbit. The two of them have no real camaraderie, very different crowds… The only thing which could make sense is that White Rabbit would be a good Fable to contact if you didn't actually want help immediately." As an aside, Silver addressed the very present White Rabbit, "No offense, but yer hardly a frightenin' adversary to scare off any enemies, and ye can sleep through a hurricane."

The White Rabbit patted down his chest fur and adjusted his spectacles on his snout as he sniffed, "W-well, I will admit I might not have the sharpest of claws or largest of teeth, but it's not as if I'm completely helpless…"

"Yeh fainted at the sight o' his apartment."

"Oh well, all right I see your point."

Jack leaned down and patted the rabbit on his head. The White Rabbit didn't seem quite as thankful by the gesture as Jack might have hoped.

"So, knowin' full well he could have contacted me, or Elsa, heck, even our secretary Kronk, yet went after one of our less physically imposing Fables on in the buildin', demonstrated this be more a move of manipulation than urgency. If it weren't fer the fact White Rabbit is not an attractive human lass, I'd o' think Naveen be aimin' at him for his usual schemes. So no, Naveen be lookin' fer an easy scapegoat who would take long enough ter run ter someone else that Naveen would have enough time ter run off and hide himself." As Silver finished his train of thought, he turned to Naveen who was wringing water from his jacket.

"Eh," Naveen shrugged, much less shamed than he should be. "He is not wrong."

The Sheriff lifted his chin, and continued, "The other mistake that really tipped me off that somethin' be amiss, be the state o' the place. I took a look at Naveen's apartment, and within seconds it be clear this be a staged crime scene – and staged badly at that. Blood was spilled and spattered everywhere – all over every surface of Naveen's living room. But let me tell ye, the next time ye try ter stage a crime scene, ye should actually knock t'ings over – rather than carefully place them in positions you want them ter end up."

"Ye had a pole lamp knocked over, but its light bulbs were still intact. Naveen must have wanted to preserve his television set because it be miraculously avoidin' getting' spattered even though blood was liberally splashed ter each side o' it. Naveen must have wanted ter save the best o' his dishware as well. Naveen's cabinets were open and all its contents were thrown about – all except the china, obviously bein' an expensive heirloom ye didn't want broken."

"But it was my mother's, what could I do?" Naveen shrugged.

"Uh, not fake your death?" Jack suggested.

Naveen pouted.

Silver carried on, "Ye made it pretty plain ye intended ter make future use o' yer t'ings, but if ye were fightin' fer yer life, ye wouldn't have been considerin' it."

"Okay, Silver, enough." Elsa stepped forward, no longer embracing Tiana, and had assumed her role of Deputy Mayor. Fitting, as Mayor Metro Man was loudly smacking on jumbo shrimp and intently listening to the scene unfold instead of actually doing something productive. "You've impressed us, but why don't you explain why you couldn't tell me what you knew. As your Deputy Mayor …"

"Now hold on, Miss Elsa," Silver lifted up his hands in defense. Jack could see him take a purposeful step toward her, and Jack took an involuntary step forward himself. He had every intention of coming to Elsa's defense, except he realized Silver was not focused on her. Jack followed Silver's gaze to Tiana who was surrounded by Charlotte, Anna, and Esmerelda, and he realized what Elsa was really asking. Silver seemed to put it together as well, for he softened and explained, "I only knew fer certain he participated in stagin' the crime scene. I didn' know he be in Davy Jones' Locker. In fact, I had pretty compellin' evidence he was.

"There be more blood at the scene than any one person could lose and still be alive. I knew it just by looking, and Stitch himself confirmed after one whiff the blood belonged to Naveen. He even calculated himself the amount there: based on evidence, there be no way Naveen be amongst the livin'. But, there be too many possibilities ter fit the available evidence. Naveen could have planned ter make his suicide look like a murder. Or he could have participated in the scam to fake his death not realizin' that his partner-in-crime decided to make it a real murder scene. But it wasn't either of those, o' course. The copious amounts of blood be the one part o' the plan where Naveen had thoroughly outsmarted me – all o' us in the team – fer a while. It be Dr. Joshua Sweet who gave me the final clue."

Heads swiveled to the doctor who blinked and pointed to himself, "Me? I mean I'm happy to have helped, but how?"

"Earlier this evenin', before meetin' up with Tiana. Ye reminded me o' the empty blood bags missin' from yer stock about six months back. That's how he did it. The average person can give up a pint of blood every six weeks without suffering any ill effects. He had to have had this idiot scheme planned fer some time because it took a while fer Naveen ter collect the 7 ter 8 liters of blood needed ter convince us he be dead. If not fer his Fable healin' abilities because he be so damn popular, I don't know how he'd be functionin'."

"Why though?" Tiana spoke up, her voice was cracking as she turned from her circle of comfort and faced the Sheriff. "Why did you keep me in the dark? After everything?"

"I had ter, as long as you be one o' the suspects."

Hurt radiated from her. "But I thought you believed me! I told you, I would never –!" It burned Jack to see Tiana clearly pained.

"I know, I know," Silver was gruff, but softened in an attempt to be gentle and soothing. Jack was surprised by the urge that came over him to punch the Sheriff. Yet another thing he didn't like about the Fable: no one else elicited violence from Jack but him. "But not even Naveen would fake his own death without good reason. From day one o' the investigation I wasn't lookin' fer his killer. I be lookin' fer the person he be so afrai of – who made him go ter all this effort. Until I determined that, I couldn't risk tellin' any o' you he could still be alive."

Mayor Metro Man swallowed the last of his jumbo shrimp whole, wiped his hands on a small napkin he carried from downstairs, and asked, "So who was he so afraid of?"

Silver turned to Naveen. "Care ter answer that one?"

The prince scratched the back of his neck, avoiding their looks as he mumbled, "Mad Madam Mim."

Most seemed confused, but all those even a little involved with the on goings of the case, or were members of the Seventh Floor, murmured something along the line of "ah."

Silver looked plenty satisfied and he began to button up his shirt again. "Right. Mad Madam Mim. If there be a dame not ter get involved with, she be the one. So me thoughts on this, I can't exactly be backin' up with hard evidence, but I have some proof on the matter an' some pretty good educated guesses. About nine months back, Naveen here returned from yet another failed relationship. The woman he be moochin' off of done kicked him out, and I'm guessin' he felt like returnin' ter old Fabletown. Maybe he be tired o' Native women, or maybe he be missin' his own kind. Whatever be the case, it be here he met a pretty, buxom lass: the disguised Mad Madame Mim.

"When and how he found out I can't be sayin', but at some point in their courtin', he discovered her identity. And it frightened him. Can't be sayin' I blame him. I guessin' he even caught wind o' her plans ter do him in. O' course, he tried pullin' away, but she wouldn't be havin' any o' that. A witch is not exactly a person ye can run from. And any Fable knows the old stories of Mim know if there be a good way ter get yerself killed, it's to give her reason ter chase ye. And if ye don't, ye should at least have the brains ter recognize a red flag if someone includes 'Mad' in their name. So Naveen decided ter do away with himself as a ruse. Give himself time ter find a new lass, get money, and skip town. But ter do that, he came up with the bright idea ter be dead.

"Then about a month or so back, he decided he didn't want ter play dead. Maybe he realized what an idiotic idea this be, or maybe he tried a few times before but this be the first time it stuck. Whatever be the case, Naveen tried to get Mim off his back, and after send her after Jim. I imagine he be figurin' she'd grow bored with Naveen and enjoy the company of a new man. O' course, he didn't count on her not bein' so drawn ter monogamy – at least on her end.

"As Mim tried harder to keep Naveen around, and thereby be scaring Naveen further away and feelin' more inclined to fake his own death before she be turnin' t'ings around and be killin' him fer real."

Silver cut off at Tiana's sudden movement. "Faking your own death, Naveen?" She marched up to the prince. Jack decided to edge closer, as were many other Fables, before a one-sided fight broke out. "Wow, and uh, how long did you imagine that would work?"

Naveen's smile was very forced, "I thought it would all be working out in the end?" He scratched his chin. "Somehow, I assumed you would be more relieved to know I was alive. Reawaken some of those old, passionate feelings for me, yes?"

Esmerelda, Charlotte, and Anna stepped in front of the seething Tiana who looked about ready to burst a blood vessel. Jack stepped back even though their animosity was nowhere near directed toward him.

"Once and for all, leave her out of your shit." Esmerelda snarled. Fire almost seemed to crackle off of her with each word she spoke. "She has accomplished so much, thanks to her own strength and will, and every time you come back to Fabletown, you try to drag her down. Enough."

"Tiana, I'll totally punch him in the face." Anna scrunched up her nose and mouth as she drew her hands into fists and help them up. "You want me to? Because I'll do it."

"Not if I give him a good sluggin', first," Lottie declared.

"Now, now," Naveen chuckled nervously. "Ladies …"

"Anna, Lottie," Elsa said gently but firmly, "No one is punching anyone." She glanced at Naveen. "No matter how much they may deserve it."

"Actually," Jasmine voiced, "All this reminds me, where is Mim, anyway?"

Aladdin was pinned to her side and said with great determination, "Right. Is Mim incarcerated right now? If so, she should be released!"

Jim shook his head, "Trust me, she's where she belongs."

"Man," Jack grimaced as voices rose all around him in outrage. "This is nuts." He could feel his heart in his ears as the growing energy of frustration pulsed around him. The crowd was chaotic with anger, but maybe with a little fun, things could be quelled. Jack slowly edged closer to the water, picking out the Fables who would be the better sports about being pushed into a pool.

His hands hovered behind Milo's back when suddenly the noise of angry voices were outshined by a much louder _BANG!_

Heads spun as a wave of shock ran like a current through all present.

Silver was the first to snap out of his shock, barreling from his stance between Naveen and Tiana into the parting crowd, and yelled, "What the devil is wrong with ya?" He ran to Jim's side, whose eyes were wide and his expression vacant. Smoke radiated from the back of his head. Jim seemed fine, save for the missing rattail and resulting bald patch covered in soot on the back of his cranium.

Jack watched the wheels turn in Jim's head as the diplomat slowly felt around his scalp. He stopped once he reached the smooth yet dirtied skin and very missing hair. With confusion and utter disbelief, he looked up to the source of the gunshot.

"Stitch, what the hell?"

Sure enough, when Jack turned, Glamoured Stitch held a smoking plasma gun.

Jack held the opinion that it would probably be to Stitch's advantage if he stopped smiling so widely: it gave him a rather evil and not so apologetic appearance. The alien noticed Jack and his grin broadened and he lifted his empty hand and gave him a thumbs up.

Jack couldn't help it; he bust out into gut-clenching laughter.

"That's it!" He heard the Sheriff roar. "Everyone, off the roof, now!"

And so, that was how the 300th anniversary of Remembrance Day ended: with a bang.

(and it turned into a ballroom blitz)

 **a/n:** Welcome to the new year everyone! Happy 2016! And with this, we end the first of many arcs in the story of _Fables._ Fun fact, I originally was going to write these first four chapter as the first chapter. My Beta-readers persuaded me not to. I think it was a wise decision haha

Do share your thoughts; I'm happy to hear from you all!


	5. Sunday Morning

**Pairings:** For the most part Jelsa, but while it will end up as JackxElsa, that means there will be a little JimxElsa, too.

 **Rating:** R/M because people are dying and so censorship is much less of a debate.

 **Disclaimer:** Send your appreciation and respect to the minds of Disney, DreamWorks, Bluth, and pretty much any animation company that is not me. The original concept of this story is not mine: Fables belongs to DC/Vertigo Comics. I'm simply re-interpreting a pre-existing story, just like pretty much everyone else on this website. Song and lyrics, "Sunday Morning," is by Maroon 5.

 **Thanks:** To SashaWren and IGDude117 because my writing is by no means perfect and there's always something that can be improved. Seriously, give them major props and thank you's! And I would also like to extend thanks to _S Danyal Allen, Kelsocspanatarailka, Silence in Winter, SharKohen, TheGreenFairy25, Guest,_ and _Trapid_ for your reviews. Your support means so much!

Cheers!

"Sunday Morning"

Or

"Jim's Got Game"

It was the Sunday after the events of Remembrance Day, and Boston was given a taste of scalding summer, in the form of a dragon with fire in its teeth, and the world had no choice but to bow under its oppressive force. Households throughout the city turned their fans on and adjusted their air conditioning as a means of refuge. Those who ventured outdoors found themselves combating the heat with quickly evaporating bottles of water, accumulating sweat, and the need to cling to any shade they could find for relief.

One such individual who chose to challenge the overbearing temperatures instead of avoiding them was Jim Hawkins. Given his adventurous nature and ever-changing timetable, there were few things in his schedule he felt a need to uphold, and working out was one of them. He had long-since realized that when he refrained from keeping himself active, he would grow stir-crazy, so prioritizing workouts became a matter of not only maintaining his physical health, but his mental state. How he worked out varied from one location to another, but when in Boston, a good run at 6:00 AM was a good way to begin. During weekdays he would swing by one of the local animal shelters (changing up the exact organization every five years because people begin to wonder why he's still the same) and giving the more excitable dogs a good jog. As it was Sunday, Jim was going solo.

This day he opted for his recent favorite route along the Charles River. Here the water served as a nice change of scenery compared to the rest of the city and its old, tall buildings, as well as the small parks he'd pass through. Usually fellow runners would share the space with him, but this morning he had only seen two, one of whom was practically glued to a public water fountain. At the sight he was reminded to carefully sip from his own bottle. Practically immortal he may be, but dehydration was still something he wished to avoid. He capped the bottle. The motion triggered recent memories of the previous two weeks, Remembrance Day, and a Deputy Mayor who currently championed his mind.

In a way, he was a little surprised by the turn of emotions in himself regarding Elsa. Prior to the fiasco with Naveen and Mim, he did not give her too much thought. True, she was positively stunning and he could not imagine a world where anyone would claim otherwise (and he had literally been to hundreds), but the Fable community was rampant with beautiful people so it wasn't as if pretty women were in short supply. Honestly the general impression he had of her was that she was caring for those few who mattered, but otherwise could be a little standoffish and pretty damn intimidating. Jim had gone up against pirates, captains, dying worlds, armies, monsters, and his mother's wrath and it was Elsa who could make him or anyone else stop short. So he would be pleasant – after all it wasn't as if he disliked her – deliver his reports from sister Fabletowns, and then carry on his merry way.

But then Mim happened.

After struggling to break free and feeling horribly worn out, emasculated and trapped, it was Elsa who had helped him. That did not surprise him. She wouldn't be as good at her job as she is if she weren't willing to help others. And really, any Fable with a conscience would help another in such a situation. So while he was absolutely appreciative of her helping him get to Medical, his previous perception of the duty-bound woman hadn't changed too much.

What did stand out for him was that she stayed.

Elsa stayed. He was genuinely, albeit pleasantly, surprised. He didn't know why as she bore no personal allegiance to him. He thought perhaps she was being kind since she was the one to find him and wanted to make sure he was okay. She did call Silver, so she could have been waiting for the ex-pirate to arrive before she departed. And while that may have been the case, Jim found himself in the rare position to truly observe the Snow Queen, and in doing so found some of his preconceptions of her melting. For the first time he saw how she was fussing – this strong, collected, stunning woman – over _him._ Gone was her normal calm and measured expression and in its place were winter blue eyes wide with worry, lips parted with words of care, and ungloved hands wringing together in unease. Amidst his pain he was fascinated by this change in her demeanor, and in that first moment when she flushed under his gaze… it didn't matter what state he was in, who ran rampant in his nightmares, or that he was hospitalized – he knew she was what he had been looking for: the adventure of a lifetime.

At first he found himself scheming ways he could keep her company without scaring her off, but Elsa proved it unnecessary as she kept returning to the Medical Wing to see him. She would consistently bring him food, keep him company between breaks, and ask how his recovery was coming. Jim was not a hundred percent sure if she was acting out of what was duty-bound ethics or if she mirrored his interest, but when he reached out to initiate physical contact and she didn't pull away, he read it as a good sign.

Jim's certainty picked up some when Silver added his own observations regarding Elsa's frequent visits – all equipped with a knowing smirk.

It was probably because of that Jim wasn't the least bit shocked when the Sheriff paired Elsa up with him for the Ball under the guise of keeping him safe. Jim wasn't too sure he was thrilled with his first "date" with her being one she was kind of manipulated into, but if things went well he could hopefully make it up to her by sweeping her off her feet. If there was one thing he learned working as a diplomat it was how to be charming.

His romantic side he happily blamed on his father whom he refused to be anything like.

As Jim jogged, he recalled arriving at her apartment, her surprise when he presented flowers, and his own awe at her appearance. As the night progressed he took great pleasure observing her expression becoming more relaxed and open. With each movement he tested the waters of Elsa, sinking in slowly to see what she would allow: holding her hand, draping his arm around her waist, and eventually guiding her to the dance floor. By the end of the night he was feeling rather confident and after the events on the roof when he dropped her off at her door, he dared to kiss her hand before bidding her goodnight.

Mim was caught, Naveen wasn't dead, and the possibility of dating Elsa was looking more and more like a probability.

Bald spot on the back of Jim's head or not, he felt good, and when he woke up the following morning he sent her a "Good morning :)" text before he left for his morning run. He liked the little fantasy in his mind of her waking up to his message and that imagery carried through his long distance calls with a Fable who was difficult to hear through his thick accent and what sounded like at least a dozen other high-pitched voices yelling around the phone in gibberish. All Jim could make out was something about a banana. It probably meant he was going to need to make a trip down there and see how they were managing: being located at the south pole was the opposite of easy. Upon finishing the call, he was notified Elsa had responded and his mood soared.

Saturday had carried on in a busy but positive rhythm. He continued with his schedule: making more calls, catching up on two weeks of neglected work, heading out to Hercules' gym where the demi-god and Bob Parr were arm wrestling (for the millionth time), sending out important packages, and dropping off confiscated magical artifacts at the Basement – all the while texting Elsa and fighting a colossal smile that refused to budge and was beginning to hurt his jaw.

It was thrilling and fascinating how in a span of two weeks he had gone from haunted, draining terror to feeling as if he were on a ship with the destination of Cloud Nine. If he weren't so excited, he might have considered the possibility of emotional whiplash.

Jim slowed his run to a walk, panting with controlled breath between small sips of water. Usually when he was involved in a physical activity, his focus was purely on that, but it seemed his mind had gotten away from him and he had accidentally strayed in his path. He was back in Fabletown's perimeters, Fabletown's Upper East side, a few blocks from his apartment complex. Before he could wonder why his feet had betrayed him, he realized which building he was passing, and that he had taken himself where he really wanted to be without thinking.

Jim stood in front of curved architecture with large windows on the elevated first story. The old brick steps leading to the six-story building had been recently cleaned, a necessity for both the occupants and general upkeep. The Beaux Arts style was common in Boston and among the favorites of many Fables, particularly those who had the money. While many Fables from more primitive realms were fascinated by the growing technologies of their current world, there was an appeal to keeping around things that were old. Jim was by no means surprised that this would be the building to attract Elsa's attention.

Before the idea was fully formed in his mind he found himself headed up to her apartment. Rational thought seemed to have left him, but he was here so why _not_ go see her? Jim reasoned she was probably a morning person and was up, and if not, his knocking most likely wouldn't wake her. True, she didn't really seem like the deep sleeper type, but he was already up the stairs.

Of course, it was only when the diplomat arrived at her door and had rapped his knuckles against it twice did he realize his current state: red in the face, drenched in sweat, probably reeking of body odor, and panting from his run, the heat, and the journey up five flights of stairs. The one saving grace was that he was purposely dressed in a black fitted, sleeveless top and athletic shorts, so he didn't have any sweat stains to hide.

Cursing at himself for not thinking this through, he splashed some of the water he had left on himself as if that could mask any smells, and then gulped down the last remnants of the bottle.

"Jim?" Elsa's voice was soft and appropriately confused as she opened the door. "This is unexpected."

Alas, he was mid drink when the door opened and Jim had the delightful opportunity to make a complete and total _ass_ of himself by taking one look at her, sharply inhaling, and proceed to have a choking fit.

In his defense, however stunning she looked at the ball, this was a whole other realm of jaw dropping and he suddenly felt way out of his league. There Elsa stood in all her glory, for the first time in Jim's memory, with her ashen hair falling like silk around her. If he had not met Aphrodite, Jim would have thought she currently stood before him. But it was Elsa. The same Elsa who sternly ran Fable City Hall with a poised demeanor and kept all at arm's length. Only now her hair was down, fringed bangs framed her wide eyes, her lips were parted, and she was dressed only in a small white robe with dragon-like peacocks fanning themselves in the stitching.

Amidst her repeatedly asking if he was all right, he managed to sip the last bit of water to stay his throat. "Elsa," he managed and aw jeez his voice came out embarrassingly hoarse. He made a motion to drink again and realized with disappointment the bottle was empty.

"What happened to resting?" Her tone was bemused. Well at least he made her laugh.

Jim cleared his throat as he regretfully capped his drink. "I'm fine. Just …" Jim's jaw hovered as he refrained from finishing the thought and he turned his attention back to her. His eyes flickered from her face, to her hair, to the tightly held silk robe that fell just above her knees. Who answers her door barefoot in in silk robes that end above the knees and then _clutches_ said silk robe at the base of her neck as if without her grip it would just fall away …? He shut his mouth. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Her smile was close-lipped but pleasant. "Not quite." She thumbed some strands of her damp hair, indicating she had probably just gotten out of the shower. The smirk she sent his way indicated he very much had missed the obvious. Right. It seemed Jim would have to cross "genius" off on his resume. "Is there something that brings you to my door at 7:00 AM?"

 _I can't stop thinking about you and had the impulse to come and see you?_

"Wow, I did not think this through." He nodded more to himself than her, but hoped that some of the self-deprecating talk would help demonstrate he wasn't nearly as crazy or clingy as he was behaving. "You're right. Clearly no sane person would stroll up to someone's place without invitation, this early in the morning. I just, I had an impulse and I went with it." His explanation was honest, and yet still felt incredibly lame. His smile to her was a cringe, as if he was sympathizing with her having to listen to him ramble. "Sorry. I can leave."

"Jim." This time when she said his name it was a command for him to still. She emphasized the implications of her request by resting her hand for a moment on his arm. He felt all the more self-conscious of his hot and sweaty skin and when she removed her hand he hoped she wouldn't begin to associate him with being unhygienic. "Did something happen or did you simply come here to visit?" Her smile was again small, but her features were arranged into a gentle and calm canvas focused on him. He was used to her being direct and to the point with her words, but it was the compassion he felt from her that encouraged his honesty.

"Both." Jim admitted. Elsa's brows rose and he continued. "I just" – he waved his hands about as if plucking words he was searching for from the air – "I wanted to take you out to lunch. To thank you for helping me." He smiled at her, encouraged by her calm presence and his sunburst emotions. The feeling of loose wires spitting dangerous electricity ran rampant in his gut. "And if I'm to be completely honest, I'd also like it if you considered it a date."

Elsa said nothing, but Jim watched her actions with acute focus. Her grip on her collar tightened. Her pupils were dilated. Her cheeks frosted over in the most delicate of rose blushes. Eventually she dared to meet his gaze. She was positively adorable. "You came here first thing in the morning to ask me that?"

Jim felt somewhat in control again.

He relaxed into the frame of the door, propping his elbow up to temporarily claim the space. The cool calm of his charming persona had finally set itself in place and he felt some semblance of normal again. Now that Elsa hadn't flat out rejected him – and probably wasn't going to fight him on a date – he could be the self he wanted to be again. It was okay now that Elsa was close, because he could handle it. He was just caught off guard. Jim did privately marvel that despite their lack of physical contact this somehow felt more intimate than when they had been on the dance floor together. He could smell her now, something flowery with a little spice. He prayed she wasn't smelling him.

"What can I say? I've been itching to thank you. Until now we've both been preoccupied." He lightly swung out his arm, bottle still in hand, gesturing to their immediate vicinity. "No time like the present."

Elsa tilted her head and more of her long hair began to spill off her shoulders. He could tell a laugh was threatening to break free. "While I do appreciate your thanks, it …" She paused to choose her words carefully. "It isn't necessary. You don't have to."

Jim didn't realize he had been smirking until he felt his expression slack. He could feel some of his own intensity radiating. "Yeah, but I want to."

Again that blush emerged and he was all the more endeared to her. "Jim, you travel all the time, and my own schedule is busy. I don't know how – "

"Elsa," Jim said. "You're overthinking this, and believe me I know a thing or two about overthinking." As well as being incredibly impulsive and not thinking things through. He was flexible that way. "It's a date. Not a marriage proposal." He smiled and allowed a small moment to pass, to let his words sink in. "You open to that?"

Elsa's response was slow but she was nodding. "Okay. I think I could be."

Jim raised a brow. "Only 'could'?"

She narrowed her eyes but her smile gave her away. "It's been centuries; I'm a little out of practice."

Jim straightened and reluctantly stepped back from the entryway. He could feel she needed the space, and he needed to get going. Shower. Maybe run a victory lap or two. "You're fine. How's eleven work?"

Elsa's eyes rolled up to think and her grip on her robe almost slackened. "Eleven should be fine."

"Okay." Jim was all smiles. Like an idiot. He found he didn't care too much. He took two steps back. He'd hung outside her door long enough – especially when he would be seeing her soon. "Eleven it is."

Elsa beamed back at him and if he were any less coordinated he may have staggered. Man she was a knockout. "See you then," she said and offered a small wave farewell.

Jim waited for her to close the door before spinning on his feet, his sneakers squeaking against the wood, and heading toward the staircase. The diplomat sucked in his lips between his teeth to keep from doing any sort of victory 'Woohoo.' He felt like his normal energy had been traded with the energy of a horde of bees. He needed to go for a ride on his bike or head to the Basement and practice shooting some of their weapons to deal with all of this adrenaline.

Jim maybe passed two doors before he heard his name called out. He inhaled deeply into his chest to put on the mask of a version of himself not about to combust with excitement before turning back. Elsa had her head poked out again, hair shimmering like strummed strings on a harp. Her hands were cupped around her mouth.

He loved the playfulness oozing out of her. All these years – how could he have not seen this side of her? He must have been blind.

"You couldn't use the phone?" Laughter shook her voice.

Some of Jim's mask crumbled as his smile burst forth. He winked.

Her mirth was music to his ears.

(And I would gladly hit the road)

The gloomy and cavernous dungeons were the base of Fable City Hall. Light was sharply absent in the Underground corridors, as if designed to be as far removed from the Sun as it was from joy. Old pipes lined the ceiling and walls with little heed to aesthetic. The atmosphere was filled with the kind of cold that made even Jack shudder. The Fable could feel it from the chilled dust and stone beneath his feet to the prickling skin on top of his scalp. The few bulbs lit glowed an eerie yet faint moss green. The pale luminescence outlined the skeletal bars lining the walls. Jack was careful to sidestep many iron doors haphazardly left open. He mildly wondered if he were to blame and had forgotten. Opening all the doors to give the illusion of freedom sounded like him; forgetting did not. Then again, Jack was generally inclined to keep the Underground out of his head.

It echoed too much of an old foe.

Jack could hear claws skittering across the ceiling toward him, but he remained rooted in his stance. Pipes groaned and creaked with the pull of weight despite the force's brief duration. Jack bent his legs at the knee to better brace himself once the unseen found its target. Fur, claws, and surprising strength knocked Jack two steps back. He nearly dropped the three plates of scrambled eggs balanced on the tray in his arms. That would be a pain to clean.

"Easy there, Stitch," Jack chuckled as the alien straddled his shoulder. Apparently, the creature had escaped from his cell. Silver wouldn't be happy, but at least Stitch was staying down here like he was supposed to. Jack cringed some. He could feel himself losing hairs to Stitch's grip on his scalp for better balance. Jack wasn't sure what to have more pride in: holding in any groans of discomfort or preventing the tray from spilling any of its contents. Still, that didn't mean he was going to refrain from comments. "What, are you trying to make _me_ bald, too?"

Stitch's grip tightened as he griped, " _Gaba ika tasoopa?_ Fables too attached to hair." He pulled hard enough for Jack to consider knocking the alien off his head.

"You're probably right," Jack said. "But I kind of like mine how it is: _on my head_." Stitch's hold loosened. "Much appreciated, buddy." He grinned, more to himself than out of thanks. 'Appreciated' just rolled off his tongue. He really had been around Elsa for decades. His expression almost faltered as other thoughts followed.

The small alien pushed out a gust of breath, warm and smelling terribly of coffee and old fish. Jack's face grew taut in an effort to refrain from whiffing any more of the odor. He wondered when the last time was Stitch brushed his teeth, or if he even took part in the practice.

"Hair grows back," Stitch grumbled.

Down the corridor voices began calling out as the two neared. The raspy cackles of Mad Madam Mim grew as Naveen's whines carried through the dark but otherwise quiet space. Jack could just make out Naveen's figure pressed against the bars, inquiring if Jack had brought food for them. Jack held up the tray in his hands for the womanizer to see. "I've got it here." Jack tuned out Naveen's continued grumbles. He had little sympathy for those who held so little regard for others. And Jack was privately a little jealous Naveen would be traveling alone with Elsa to the Farm – even if it was for his punishment.

Instead, Jack addressed Stitch. "Uh, you _do_ realize it's not because of the hair that you're in here, right?"

Mim answered, "Are you sure?" Jack stopped in front of her confinement, at first confused why she was responding to a question he directed at Stitch. Then he remembered: she's Mim. "People be suspicious-like of purple colored stuff. It's the color of _magic_." She wiggled her long, spidery fingers and cackled. He noticed her orange jumpsuit already had its sleeves torn off at the elbow. He couldn't see where they went. She'd have to pay for that. "I could change my hair color, ya know, to something more pleasant. But I _like_ being disliked." She hummed.

"Yes, that is why people don't like to be around you – your hair." Naveen deadpanned. He was still slumped against the bars of his cell. Naveen was normally strongly associated with dimpled smiles, bright eyes, a strong yet long jaw, and wild yet charismatic expressions. Even when his hair resembled the debris of sheered sheep, his clothes were moth-ridden, and he was living in poverty, he retained his upbeat charm. On Remembrance Day, which Jack confidently dubbed as an all-time low for the royal, Naveen still had laughter in his voice in the face of Fables who were seconds away from throttling him. Now, his tone was sardonic and filled with resentment. Jack was sorry to see the prince looking so drained. This place had that effect on Fables.

"See? I'm always right," Mim said.

Unless they were a nut like Mim.

"Yeah, no." Jack remained in place as he held out the tray. " _You're_ here because you are a nut who kidnapped and tortured Ambassador _Astroboy_." The two shared a short standoff when he didn't put the tray down. Mim exhaled dramatically when he didn't move. She made a show of stepping back until her rear was to the farthest wall of her cell. Jack bent low to slip her plate under the door. He stood and backed away, and she was permitted to grab her breakfast. She pounced and snatched up the food with long bony fingers, stuffing her face like a squirrel.

Jack grimaced and turned to Naveen who was already situated away from him so he may receive his food. The prince accepted it and bent low to smell the dish. He grimaced and fed himself a small portion. _If you wanted fine dining all the time, you shouldn't have cheated on Tiana._ "Naveen is here for, well something between fraud and wasting government time. Personally, I'm not actually sure what you did that was illegal. Maybe you just pissed the right people off."

Jack held up the last of the plates for Stitch to grab. The alien's lower arms stretched from his natural pockets so all six of his limbs were revealed. His lower set of arms grabbed the plate, while his upper two he happily used to gorge himself on eggs. Jack winced when yellow crumbs hit him in the face. "And Stitch, buddy, in the future, if you fire a weapon at someone's head, you're probably going to jail." A fact he never previously believed he'd have to spell out for anyone, but you never knew with this crowd.

Stitch grumbled in Tantalog.

"Hey, it's only a week," Jack offered. "That's pretty much nothing, considering."

"Yeah!" Mim slammed her plate to the stone floor. Jack flinched from the shrill scrapes the dish made, and hoped none of it had broken in the process. She pointed a long finger up at the alien, though Jack felt as if her attention were directed at him. It was unsettling to be on the receiving end of the witch's fixed gaze. "Y-you want a real complaint? How about Little Miss Snowflake giving me a life sentence?" She drew in her breath and bellowed: "I hate her!" Her voice echoed down the floor like a battering ram.

Jack stood, silent. The dam he had built around his mind bent under the urgent wave of emotions he pretended not to have. He could feel his neck tense as if fighting invisible bonds, his hands tingling with an urge for combat, and his heart palpitating to unheard drums of war. He swallowed with some difficulty. Something was caught in his throat.

Stitch stuck out his tongue and made a noise reminiscent of Flatula – a language that, out of the thousands of languages Jack was fluent, he was proudest to know.

"Actually, it is the Mayor who picks the punishment." Naveen said through a mouth full of eggs. At that, Stitch, Jack, and Mim laughed. The prince scowled greatly and swallowed. "What is it I am missing?"

Jack slipped into the persona of himself who could chuckle. "Man it really has been forever since you've been in Fabletown: You've forgotten who our illustrious mayor _is_." He puffed up his chest, and began to make a motion to fly, only to remember he currently couldn't, and settled to resting on the tips of his toes. He said, in the deepest voice he could muster: " _Metro Man_."

"He don't do _shit._ " Mim as usual, was point blank. "That's why our frigid Queen steps in." Stitch snorted.

"Hey." Again Jack felt the wave, but this time he allowed it to slip through and fight for her. The anger and despair, he felt growing as of late, he directed at those around him instead of the usual target: himself.

"No, no, you missed the joke," Naveen conducted with his plastic spoon. Mim nodded vigorously in agreement from her own cell. "It is funny because she said frigid, which means both stuck up _and_ cold – and she is both. You see? Funny." His smile was not all-together friendly, but at least some of his humor was surfacing. Still, it did not excuse him for speaking ill of Elsa.

Jack tucked the empty tray under his arm. His jaw clicked into place. "No, no, I get it. It's just not –"

"Now, what she needs," Mim talked over him, "is to get laid."

Naveen snapped his fingers loud enough to startle Stitch. "Yes! Yes, this is true."

Jack shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Uh, here's an idea: let's _not_ talk about Elsa." It felt weird, saying her name, and for that the waters of Jack turned dark with guilt. She hadn't actually done anything wrong, she was just doing her job, helping with the investigation. The mantra Jack had embodied over the last few days began again: _she was just being nice_. And maybe Jim was, too. It was Silver who made them go together. The muscles in his hand had micro spasms. Silver was always the problem.

"Hey ya frost boy," the witch wrapped her cuffed hands around the bars, pressing her head as if trying to squeeze it through. "Ya need to do a better job gettin' her jollies off, ya hear?" Stitch snorted.

A bitter cold Jack hadn't felt in centuries spiked through his system. It ebbed as quickly as it came. He stared at her.

"Now, when you're with a woman, you can't just go shovin' it in and expectin' her to –"

"No! No, no, no. No." Jack held up his hands in protest. The tray clattered to the floor. "Nope. Sorry, the judges have considered the offer, put it to a vote, and the unanimous answer is: _no_."

Naveen was struggling to speak through his laughter. "There is no need for embarrassment."

"I got it!" Mim smacked her lips and Jack noticed she had cleared her plate. "Naveen, I'll put ya on loan to her for seductin' if ya can get her to _cool_ it with my sentence." Her wink was overly exaggerated. "Ho ho, these puns are just coming to me!" Jack found himself empathizing with Elsa and her disdain all the times he has made jokes relating to all things cold. He'd apologize with ice cream.

"What? You are a crazy lady," Naveen sneered before slumping to the floor of his cell. He was silent for but a moment, as he said with great agitation, "Why would I care about your sentence? If anything, would it not make more sense for me to shorten my own time? Hm?"

Jack decided he had enough. "Stitch," he lifted his friend off his shoulder and lowered him to the floor. "I'm gonna go before their flavor of nutty begins to rub off." He straightened, continuing to look down at Stitch. His ears were lowered, though Jack deducted it had more to do with deflecting Mim and Naveen's loud volumes than feeling abandoned. Or at least, Jack hoped that was the case. "Hey, you'll be okay, buddy."

Stitch snorted. "Stitch _okietaka_." He revealed noise canceling headphones and a white iPod that had a small black cube with visible green glowing circuitry attached to its lower half. Jack was pretty sure that was a powerhouse of a battery that used to belong to Hiro, but based on the lack of sleek designing and more pragmatic makeup, it seemed the alien had reworked it for his own use.

Jack chuckled and said, "I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be confiscated." Stitch shrugged. They both knew Jack wasn't going to blow the whistle on him. Especially with these two to keep him company.

Mim was still talking at Naveen. "… So when yer on the road, ya can use the time to yer advantage, get Elsa swoonin'. I'd say do the thing when we drove to Cape Cod …" The prince had slumped to the ground, but was now looking at Jack, clearly recognizing he was likely the sanest in the room, and therefore most likely to sympathize with him.

"I am regretting so much right now," Naveen's eyes were wide, as if he had just realized he swallowed some animal's testicles. Jack would take a gander at frog, given the degree of despair in his face.

"Well, maybe if you're nice and promise not to creep on Elsa," Jack shot a look at Mim, "Stitch will share." When Jack smiled meaningfully at his friend, he found him pouting. "Right, Stitch?"

After a moment of deliberating, and Naveen attempting his own version of a pitiful look (which he was pretty good at right now), Stitch agreed, albeit with his own amendment: "And _naga_ whining."

Jack left the three inmates, a little proud of how well he played mediator despite his inner turmoil, and glad to have reason to leave – especially once Mim began protesting that she wanted access to music, too. Evidently, she didn't like being left out. Jack was a little surprised to have that in common with her, and then quickly cringed at the idea of having anything in common with the witch. Empathy could be a real pain in the butt.

He journeyed to the surface level, inhaling the air free of mildew. He found the main floor as open and bare as he left it. The decorations of Friday had been packed away with his and the paid staff's help, but the normal furniture and decorations of Fable City Hall were not yet back in place. When they were cleaning the time had been late, and after everything that had happened, Tiana dismissed everyone. Jack figured it was mostly in her own interest, as Tiana had a pension for only departing with the last Fable, and she was exhausted. He didn't hold it against her, especially since he had been just about ready to collapse. So now there was little to keep him company on the ground level but glossy wooden floors and high ceilings – for now. Fables would arrive any minute to begin helping.

Jack first moved to the front entrance, unlocking the doors for those intending to enter, before turning about toward the back entrance. Through there were the elevators, the restrooms, the break room, and the Fable-controlled dump.

The dump, or unofficially _Hal's Hangout_ , was adjacent to the parking lot, and about three acres in size. Items were broken up into various categories based on type of garbage and whether or not it could be composted or recycled. Items that could be composted were packed up by an industrialized machine and used as mulch for the local green house or was sold to local Native farmers, and on occasion, sent up to the Farm. Items that could be recycled were carted off to a recycling plant. The rest were additionally sorted, depending on whether or not they could be used second hand. While various Fables technically ran the dump, the Fable who managed the area was Hal Stewart.

Hal was known for being rather unremarkable, particularly for a Fable. Unlike most in the community, he was not especially attractive with overgrown greasy red hair, a nose too large for his face, and carrying enough extra weight he barely had a chin. While it was a small minority of Fables who were not in the best of shape, those who were weren't necessarily looked down upon. Po, for example, a very obese Fable who worked in one of Tiana's restaurants, was extremely well liked. The reason Hal had garnered a reputation for being not so likable, was his personality.

"Oh, s'up Jack?" Hal was dressed in a grey jumpsuit covered in old stains, and a cap with the Green Lantern insignia on the front. His jumpsuit was partially unzipped so his white tank, soaked through with sweat, and the lower half of his stomach were visible. He was surrounded by random junk and slumped in a rusted collapsible chair opening a bag of Cheetos. "You need something?" He tipped his head back and emptied the contents into his mouth.

Compared to most, Jack didn't mind him too much. "It's, uh, Sunday? Bring-in-furniture day?"

Hal slumped in his seat and let out a long, drawn-out groan.

It was the moment when Hal began complaining when he got on Jack's nerves.

"Come on." Jack walked past Hal toward the large wooden shed behind him. He unlatched the double doors and opened them, and playfully waved to the series of familiar inanimate objects waiting to be brought back to their normal locations. "Morning fellas, ready to go home?" He stepped inside and hoisted up Kronk's large swivel chair. It was relatively easy to carry by himself, and it was blocking the way to other items. When Jack exited the shed, he found Hal had not moved an inch.

"What, you hungover or something?" Jack laughed despite the growing bubble of annoyance beginning to manifest itself. Centuries of being around this Fable tended to dull his patience.

Hal, still without getting up, fished around blindly with his free hand into the collection of junk around him, until he – in the laziest form of triumph Jack had ever seen – swayed his arm halfway into the air, revealing a half-full bottle of wine. Jack recognized it as one of the brands from the Remembrance Day Ball. Hal must have swiped it from the leftover catering that had been dumped in one of the giant bins just beyond the shack. Gross.

"I'm drunk right now," Hal said, and Jack picked up on the slight slur in the man's voice.

"Seriously?" Jack lumbered toward him, continuing to balance the large chair in his arms. "How drunk are you?"

Hal scowled greatly, tried to get up, failed, and then grumbled a slew of words containing a dozen curses. "Aw man …" Jack adjusted his grip as he snickered. "You know you're supposed to be helping out, right? You do it every year? You're being _paid_?" The large Fable's frown deepened with each point Jack made.

The two stared at one another for a long moment, Hal daring Jack to actively call him out on his shit, and Jack mulling on his options.

"Y'know," Hal spoke first. "Why's it always have to be Sunday? It's just rude. Ev'ryone else's off sleeping while good, ol' Hal apparently isn't allowed to have a life, so he can just do cleanup for everyone else." He pointed his finger at Jack and bellowed, "It's disr'spectful!"

Jack wiped off the spit that hit him in the face and forced air through his closed lips. "What am I, invisible? You're _not_ cleaning up by yourself. Besides, this can be fun! We can make a game out of it, like, when everyone gets here, we can set up an assembly line inside, blast the radio, sing along, and we have to set up each section before the song ends! We could have teams!"

"No, singing's stupid."

" _Or_ we can make a repeat of, what, three years ago? The thing with the bats? Only _this_ time we'll leave the recycling out of it, because that was a pain to clean."

"Jack, these games're _retarded_." Hal managed to sit up so he could try and toss the soda – and miss – into the recycling. Jack's upbeat expression faltered for but a moment. The drunk Fable didn't notice. "You want fun? How 'bout a wet t-shirt contest, 'n we can get all those hoity-toity royals ter come down and –" Jack had picked up Kronk's chair and dropped it in Hal's lap. "Th' _fuck_ Jack?"

"Can you hold this for me? Thanks, pal." Jack's smile was broad as he swiped the wine from Hal's hand.

"Jack, you fuck, get this off! It's too hot out for this!" Hal struggled to knock it over. After a moment he apparently realized the drink was gone, for he added, "Hey! Give it back!"

Jack considered having a sip himself, but opted not to as he didn't really want to put his mouth where Hal's had been. "What was that?" He grinned as he walked at an exaggeratedly slow speed toward the giant bin where it belonged.

"Y'know what I said. Don't be a dick, man!"

"Nope. Definitely can't hear you." Jack rounded the shack as he shouted over his shoulder: "Maybe if you enunciate!" Hal's grumbles were loud enough Jack knew he was speaking, but not enough for him to understand. See, now Jack _was_ telling the truth. He pocketed the bottle into one of the deeper pouches in his suit, and then hoisted himself up the bin. He swung his legs over so he was straddling the side. The garbage was high enough his foot could touch the items inside even though it was five feet deep. "This is a lot of junk," he said to himself. Jack dug into his pocket, removed the wine, and then chucked it.

When Jack rounded the shack, Hal was still in his seat. Jack would have assumed the Fable hadn't moved, except he had managed to knock the chair to the ground. It lay rather sadly on its side amidst the rubbish. "Aw, Hal, you're so mean to the chair."

Jack smirked as Hal grumbled, "It's inan'mate." The larger Fable had another bottle of wine in his hand and enough junk had been moved around to reveal a cooler filled with stolen drinks and the large man's bare feet. It seemed he was trying, in vain, to keep cool.

"You're still mean." Jack sang.

"Man, I get enough crap from Elsa; I dun need it from ya, too … Yer not even my boss, so ya can suck it." He gestured limply to his crotch.

"Mm, _tempting._ "

Hal flipped over on his side away from Jack. "Oh shut up." He stretched out his arms, trying to reach for a fan a good two feet from his touch.

Jack laughed as Hal raised his middle finger high.

"You know," Hal called out. "You'd be annoyed, too, if you didn't have such a hard on for her! We all see it, you know. It's pathetic." He tried to reach for the fan again. "Can you bring that closer?"

Jack's chuckles came to a grinding halt. He ignored Hal's continued rambling and rolled the chair inside the building. He then marched back out to the dump, scaling the side of the building. He stopped at the compost compactor, calmly turned a spiral-shaped knob next to it, and then dragged over a hose and aimed high pressure water at the lounging Hal. Immediately he yelped as he was knocked off the chair, more from surprise than from force. Jack accommodated for his victim's change in position by charging closer, cackling, and keeping the hose angled right at him. Items not pinned under Hal went flying.

"Jack! Jack, stop! I'm sorry! Jack. Jack!" Hal wailed.

The prankster cupped his mouth with one hand as he yelled, "What? Don't stop? If you say so!" And he twisted the head to increase the pressure. They went on a few minutes like that: Jack laughing and taunting while Hal switched between pleading and cursing. It was only when a small audience collected, and Jack heard a new voice call out his name, he stopped the water with his fist.

Friday's cleanup crew had returned to finish the job. The only difference now from then, aside from the time difference, was that instead of being well dressed, they were garbed casually in shorts, tanks, and tees. One was carting water bottles with a large tube of sunscreen poking out. All of them looked tired already, though the scene before them seemed to energize them somewhat from sheer disbelief. Or perhaps incredulousness would be the better term. This was very much within Jack's character.

Cogsworth, an older, rounder Frenchman with a small yet bulbous nose and the most hilarious hairstyle Jack has ever seen, stepped forward. Even after all these years, he was a fan of curling his bangs to the side of his head instead of allowing them to rest naturally on his forehead. Jack snuck into his apartment once for a prank and was delighted to discover he slept with a large curler on each side of his head. Cogsworth clicked his tongue as he held out his planner, scribbling away. "Jack, cease this lollygagging at once! Fable City Hall is not a place for such poor decorum. And doing this to your poor fellow Fable? How are we expected to get along if we're antagonizing one another all the time? Really!"

Jack calmly turned from Cogsworth down to Hal, who was completely drenched – and while still drunk, appeared considerably soberer – and then to the item in his hands, and back to his new audience. Jack opened his mouth, but decided against it, and with an impish grin let loose the hose on them instead.

(Someday it would lead me back to you)

The sun was high in the sky, beating down on Newbury Street, well into the heart of Native territory. People were running in and out of chain stores, carrying shopping bags in hand, stopping only to adjust for foot traffic or consider one of the many small restaurants along the path. Most craved to be seated inside where it was cool, but some dared to sit outside and marinate in the heat. Two in particular were seated outside an Italian restaurant, shaded by an umbrella, and unperturbed by the weather. An elegant woman without any signs of sweat was patiently listening to her companion, a handsome young man animatedly speaking, with a curious bald patch on the back of his head.

Elsa laughed, guiltily, half hiding behind a drink. "No, I _do_ think it's funny. I've simply heard that one a fair amount already."

"Really?" Jim fought to frown and was sorely losing the battle. "I don't remember ever–" He cut himself off and she could see realization hit him. "Silver." She continued to laugh as he leaned back in his seat into a dignified slump. She, unconsciously, tilted forward.

"His way of showing his love is sharing stories of you. He wants everyone to see how wonderful you are." She said and his pout blossomed into a smile.

"I know," he straightened and had some of his own drink. "The feeling's mutual. But that was a perfectly good humble-brag story!"

"I'm sure you have plenty of other 'humble-brag' stories to share." Elsa placed her glass back on the table before taking one of the last remaining bites of her fettuccini alfredo.

Jim was quiet for a short moment, then excitedly began, "This one time, back in the 50's, I was stationed up at the northern pole, checking in with Santa."

"Is this the time when you helped out the yetis and he tried to hire you as head of toy making?" Elsa asked. Jim's surprised stare told her yes. "Sorry." She giggled behind her hand. She hadn't meant to beat him to the punchline. At least, not that much.

"It's fine." He shook his head, amused, before sitting back in his chair, as if lounging comfortably at home. "But by 'tunder he's stealing my thunder." Jim looked to her, playfully grimacing, and she found herself for maybe the hundredth time in the past hour and a half endeared to him.

"And here I was, thinking all this time you paid him to speak so highly of you." She smirked as he considered her teasing hypothesis. Elsa took another bite of her food as she watched him, how he scrunched his nose, and the crease between his brow deepened when he focused on thoughts running through his mind. His features then slackened into a flirtatious challenge.

"Your turn." Jim pushed his empty plate to the side to make room for his folded arms. "Tell me a humble-brag story."

Elsa placed her fork down. "Hm." She looked up as if she could see memories from above. "Once Stitch told me he _respects_ me." She peeked at Jim and knew his interest was piqued.

"Really?" Jim lifted his chin. "I don't believe it."

"No, it's true." She picked up her glass for a small sip. "This was at least two centuries back. When everyone was reacting to news of the _Titanic._ " Jim's eagerness ebbed. Some events were world-shaking even to immortal beings, and that tragedy was one of them. The sinking of the great ship, all those lives lost, and the international confusion followed by outrage included the Fables. The event triggered many thoughts and feelings reminiscent of the Great Conqueror, escaping his armies, and all that was lost. She and Anna, however, had an additional reason for grief. "Anna and I, we lost our parents at sea, back on our world. Before the Great Conqueror."

"I'm sorry," Jim said sincerely.

Elsa smiled but waved him off. "It's in the past. I've long since accepted it. But the _Titanic_ was a painful reminder. All those lives lost, and _how_ they were lost … Anna and I, we never found out how they died. They simply were gone. It was months before we even knew they were dead." She allowed a small moment to pass, to feel shadows of old feelings come and go. "And I wasn't … I didn't handle it well, to say the least. Anna suffered the most for it, and I wasn't there for her the way I wish I could have been… I like where I am today, who I am and what I do, and if it weren't for the things that happened, I would be a different me. But, how I iced her out, I'm not sure I'll ever completely accept that. Even if she has." Elsa privately thought to herself, _Anna is kinder that way._

Jim's eyes were kind, though the curve of his mouth twitched. "I may be a dick asking, but when you say 'iced' …?"

Elsa froze in a blink, then laughed. "No, that's fair. I meant it as a metaphor, though I suppose if I think about it, I did _literally_ ice her out as well."

"Gotcha."

The two chuckled. Elsa was a little impressed he got her to laugh at herself, especially during the time she held the most shame – at least before the Great Conqueror. "Anna was feeling down, so I treated her to a picnic. We ventured to the outskirts of Fabletown, down by the east side." Jim nodded, clearly remembering as well as her the park Fabletown had in place at the time, before over-crowding was a major issue. "I made her a miniature of the castle we grew up in, gave her Parisian shoes, and a collection of other items I knew she loved. We then had sandwiches, chocolates, shared memories of home … and I gave her space to cry. My heart went out to her, and yet Anna _apologized_ , saying it was silly she was still sad every now and then. Ridiculous. Anyone would be."

Elsa sighed. "So I told her, 'Anna, it's okay to feel sad. I still feel sad at times, too. They were a part of our family then, and even though they're gone, they always will be. It doesn't matter how small or big our family becomes, because we love each other. And we loved them, and together or apart, they will never be forgotten.'" Elsa flushed some, noticing Jim's pensive stare. "I think we all can relate."

"Yeah, we can." Jim said.

Elsa cringed. "I'm sorry, this is a heavier humble-brag story than intended – and probably not the best for a first date."

Jim shook his head. "I like your story. It's real."

"True," Elsa said, though she still felt guilty.

He perked up some, and she guessed he could sense her discomfort. She wasn't exactly hiding it. "Where does Stitch come in?"

Elsa continued. "He was there, listening. Apparently privacy is a foreign concept." Jim snickered, his shoulders lightly shook. "I had no idea until I got up for a parasol. He intercepted me and, oh if you saw his face … I could just _feel_ his sadness." She held out her hands as if she could grab hold of the alien's sorrow. "And he, he told me I was good _ohana_." Her throat began to clench and she sipped her drink to wash the sensation away. "And that he had a lot of respect for me." She dared to meet Jim's gaze again. "He looked so sad and lonely – I invited him to visit with Anna and myself, but he declined. He said it was too painful."

Elsa stopped speaking. Jim had to beckon for her to continue.

"There's not much more to tell." She straightened in her seat, smoothing her napkin flat across her lap. "I realized then the depth of how much everyone, even the most rambunctious of us, had lost. I also developed a soft spot for the little gremlin, even when he does things like, well…"

"Firing a gun at my head?" Jim suggested dryly.

Elsa winced. "That was a particularly terrible idea."

"I'll say." Jim snorted.

She intertwined her fingers and rested them in her lap. "You're not in pain?"

"No." He reached to feel the back of his head. "I'm fine. Fable healing took care of any minor wounds." Elsa nodded, relieved, though she recognized she had really been asking about his frame of mind, rather than his physical state. Silver and Sweet had checked him immediately after the incident and declared Jim was in one piece, and she highly doubted the effects of the gun had a forty-eight-hour delay. Still, she saw no point in correcting him.

"I'm glad." Elsa smiled and took another bite of her dish. At this last one, she considered herself full. She aligned her fork and knife on her plate, next to one another, indicating she was finished. She then dabbed at her mouth with her cloth napkin.

"You have room for dessert?" Jim asked. "They have decent crepes here, considering we're not in France."

Elsa pressed her lips together, fighting a smirk. "Considering." It was nice to know she wasn't the only one with some elitist-tendencies. "I'm not sure I can stomach a full plate."

Jim shrugged and leaned back in his seat, raising his arm to beckon the waitress over. "We can share." He snuck a glance at her, checking to see Elsa approved of his suggestion, and it seemed her acceptance was written on her face, for he carried on with his plan as the waitress arrived. She carried two dessert menus in her arms, which Jim thanked her for before saying, "We'd like to split a crepe." She nodded without complaint and took away their dishes so all that remained was the black, metal table itself and the three daisies as a centerpiece.

"So," Jim began. Elsa straightened, readying herself for his next line of get-to-know-you questions. "If you could go anywhere on this world, where would you go?" She began to open her mouth and answer, but he held up his finger. "There _are_ wrong answers."

She laughed.

(That may be all I need)

 _Phil's Gym for Heroes-in-Training_ was at max capacity. The locker rooms were fully stocked with personal items, the basement pool's lanes were all taken, the main floor's weight lifting room was overstocked with men, the second floor's machines were mostly occupied, and the third floor's various rec rooms were filled. This was nothing new the days following Remembrance Day. Fables tended to be re-inspired to maintain their physique and fighting techniques. Talk of the Great Conqueror triggered thoughts of sad nostalgia and worn desires for vengeance and justice. Chel didn't mind so much; honestly seeing more hunky, sweaty men with their tops off was generally not something she was inclined to complain about. However, with those below her level of training coming in, she was given a backseat for sparring time so that they could receive more attention – _that_ bothered her.

Chel didn't exactly have a schedule that allowed for her to show up whenever she wanted, unlike most here who she was pretty damn certain had a lot more flexibility. She supposed she could get out one of the training bags, practice her boxing, and maybe get some of her growing frustration out of her system, but she didn't want to miss out on Mulan or Shang becoming available.

While either one of the power couple would more than suffice to spar with, the one Chel kept her trained focus on was Mulan. The petite woman seemed to be made of pure muscle, even with her lithe form. Her dark eyes would follow not only the movements, but read the intentions of her opponent, and counterattack as necessary. If there was an opening, she would take advantage, not to shame or defeat, but to teach. Moments when her students did well and they managed to get the upper hand, she complimented them, identifying what they were doing right. Then she would adjust and demonstrate how to counterattack. Though the gym was run by Hercules with his satyr coach's dogma in mind, Chel personally found Mulan to be the strongest instructor. She understood the importance of learning and experience – and she truly believed anyone had the capacity to fight well if they so desired.

Chel wasn't sure she exactly agreed with the warrior, but she could respect Mulan's belief in people. It was one of many reasons Chel was ill-suited to be a teacher.

With a resounding _thud_ the student collapsed to the floor with Mulan's final blow. Princess Merida was sprawled on the floor: her wild, red hair was half escaping from its bun, her freckled chest was heaving heavily, and her round face was pulled into a typical deep scowl. Chel couldn't help but smirk. It was known that Merida was a sore loser and she had yet to win a match against Mulan. Chel had no idea how many times she had been defeated, but she suspected the princess kept count.

Mulan smiled and offered a hand to help her up off the mat. "You're getting better." Her tone was earnest, but Merida clearly was not in the mood to be consoled.

"Dun matter if I lost." She grumbled and pushed herself back up. Her skinny, freckled legs were shaking, but her oceanic eyes screamed for vengeance. Privately Chel wondered if she was projecting her malice towards the Great Conqueror at times towards Mulan. She didn't care enough to investigate. What mattered was that Mulan took her attitude in stride.

"Of course it matters," Mulan said. She grabbed her water and rewarded herself with a few sips. Chel watched her rock hard abs pulse with some envy. Merida grabbed her own drink and towel, Chel assumed with intention to leave for the showers. "You really just need to pay more attention to your footwork."

"Yeh, yeh," she waved her off. "We'll see who wins next time." Merida didn't wait for Mulan's "goodbye" before making a dash for the door. She only paused when Chel came into her direct line of sight. The ex-con woman straightened some and pulled her face into as innocent an expression as she could muster under the princess's withering glare. Chel could have her flat on her back within seconds. She couldn't deny the pleasure in showing the princess up. Ruffle some feathers. But Chel liked operating with as few enemies as possible more than provoking conflict, and Merida was notorious for her temper; even more so for her grudges.

"Who're ye lookin' at?" Merida said. She narrowed her eyes, much like a predator mulling over the fate of its prey.

Chel held up flat palms immediately, drawing her lips down dramatically, and widening her eyes all the more. "No one!" She pointed to herself and then Mulan. "I'm just waiting for my turn."

The princess cocked her head back in a manner most royal Fables seemed to have instilled in their mannerisms. It was the look of innate superiority, unconscious or not, as well as entitlement to respect. Merida was all about entitlement. Such a brat.

Despite Chel's mock frown, she could feel the corners of her mouth beginning to twitch. Self-control. A rather important character trait she had imbibed in herself over the years, and her current occupation certainly required it, but some of her resolve was beginning to waver. Luckily, their teacher sensed it, for she spoke up.

"No fighting off the mat."

Merida's hair shook with the force of her snort. Chel wiggled her fingers as the princess stomped out of the room, shaking the ground with each step. A force of nature, that one.

Chel crossed her arms across her chest as she propped herself against the wall. Mulan was checking the roster to see who was next on the list. Last Chel checked, she was fourteenth, but by her calculation, she was now ninth.

"Esmerelda," Mulan called out. The woman who was known for a mane of thick, rich hair, piercing green eyes, and a heart for justice, straightened, pausing in her conversation with Kristoff. "You're up." Esmerelda walked over to the mat in which Mulan resided, her movements were light and graceful as always.

"You don't need a moment?" Esmerelda asked, extending her legs to stretch her hamstrings. "I'm in no rush." Chel could have groaned. Sure, she didn't want to wear Mulan out, but there were too many people here to make time for idle chat.

"Thanks," Mulan said. "But I'm ready." It seemed she was on the same page as Chel.

As Esmerelda assumed a stance, ready to engage, Chel's phone began to ring. Onlookers gave her disapproving looks. "Chel," Mulan began.

"Sorry, sorry." She offered an apologetic smile as she backed out of the room. "I'll step out." Chel held her phone in her hand as she closed the glass door, then looked up and down the hall. The water fountain was empty, and no one seemed to be coming or leaving from the stairs. She pinned her back to a window that overlooked the streets of Fabletown. She had a nice view of the world below, and on this floor she now had no blind spots from anyone's presence. She answered the number.

"I thought we were only speaking in person." Her teeth were clenched into a forced smile. While no one could hear her, if someone wanted they could peer through the glass door. If she seemed upset, they'd get nosy.

"Yer takin' too long fer me likin'." Silver's gruff voice sounded from the other side. She huffed. Ugh, he could be controlling.

"How many times did I tell you? This is going to take time!" She popped her hip to the side as she adjusted her weight placement. "You want this to work or not?"

"Watch it," he growled. Chel could feel her eye twitch under the strain of maintaining a false expression. Holding a straight face never came naturally to her. "I'm yer superior."

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes. "Do you want to spend time talking power, or do you want me to complete my assignment?"

She could already see him in her head, crossing his large arms across his chest, sneering as he admitted, "Of course I be wantin' ye to complete it, but I be expectin' results!"

"And you'll get them," she soothed. "But you can't just rush these things." Kida and Milo entered the hallway, dressed in outerwear over their athletic clothes. The queen was offering words of encouragement to her husband. Milo was glowing red, from exertion and perhaps embarrassment. Chel waved to them and directed a thumbs up to him. The two waved back and then entered the stairwell. "Have I ever let you down before?" she asked, already knowing the answer was no. "Look. You're asking me to do something that has never before been done – expect delays. Fables or not, we're still working with a shut-in. I should have a raise from how far I've gotten already."

She could hear papers rustling and unintelligible grumbling from the other side.

"You know," she said as she switched the phone to her other ear, popping her hip to the other side as she rested her now free hand on it, "just because Tiana turned you down doesn't mean –"

"She wasn't – how in _all the ruddy hells_ ye be knowin' about that?" Silver demanded.

Chel smirked. It wasn't often she caught him off guard. Though to be fair, this was one of the lower blows she could have dealt out.

She practically sang, "Hm, it's my job to know."

"Chel," he growled.

She smirked. "Kronk told me Charlotte told him that Tiana told her, that _she_ couldn't believe you apparently asked her out on a date under the guise of needing her help on an investigation."

"Blasted woman," Silver said. Chel idly wondered if he was speaking about Tiana or bigmouth Lottie. "And I _was_ needin' her help."

"Yeah, but not until you were at the Mayor's suite." Chel smirked. He sighed heavily.

"No, I'll be admittin' to that, but it t'was …"

"And you like her." She grasped a chunk of her black hair, pulled up in a high ponytail, and began to run her fingers through it. If there was one thing Chel had pride in, and there were many things she had pride in, it was her hair. She was gifted with silky, smooth hair that was always soft to the touch, and it was this silky smooth hair she began to braid.

"She be a lovely woman. I'd be a loon not to."

"Mhm," she said as she tilted her head to cup the phone between her cheek and shoulder. "Yeah. Here's some advice from me to you: most women don't like being _tricked_ into a date. Be straight with them. Going on a pretend date because you're too afraid to ask her out for real? That's pathetic."

"It be convenience, not cravenness! An' I be helpin' Jimbo; why not be helpin' meself in turn?"

Chel laughed. "Sure, tell it how you want, but manipulation is manipulation. She knows it, and so do you." He sighed again, even more heavily. She checked her wrists for an extra elastic, found none, and then let her hair loose with some regret. Already the braid was unraveling. "Look, next time just ask her out for real, okay?"

"Ye think she'll agree to a next time?"

Chel nodded. "Just don't do anything stupid that would remind her of her ex."

"Ah."

"Now you get it." Chel paused as Esmerelda suddenly exited the training room, toting her water. The two waved.

"I'll see you at Tuesday's class, right?" Esmerelda asked, quiet enough so as not to disturb Chel's call, but loud enough for her to hear. Chel nodded. The pole dancing classes were a great workout, and have been terribly useful. It helped that Esmerelda certainly knew what she was doing.

"All right, all right. I be seein' yer point. And give me more credit than that – I'll have ye know I have captained more pirate ships in me time than ye've been on in yer life. An' let me tell ye, I be knowin' a thing or two about readin' folks and adjustin' fer their moods. I've commanded folks who be slayin' one another at the drop o' me ol' pirate hat. I can manage Tiana."

"Uh huh. Just remember the point is to romance her, not manage her." Chel snorted.

He sniffed. "I know a thing or two 'bout that as well."

"Of course you do. I say make her a dish – that'll get her."

"Hm, not such bad thinking there … and she often be mentionin' old memories of cookin' with her family. Workin' with that could be to me best interest. And Naveen never be cookin' fer her when they be together back in the day!"

"I live to serve," Chel said dryly. Even before she finished speaking, she knew she had invited him an opportunity to shift gears.

Silver growled, "Then you'll be havin' me report first thing tomorrow morn!"

She huffed and threw her hands up and nearly dropped the phone. "Fine!" He then hung up on her, but Chel continued speaking anyways. "But you better not be expecting much." Annoyed, she stared at her reflection in the black screen of her phone. Her dark eyes were narrowed beneath her bangs, collaborating with her scrunched nose and her large, puckered lips to create a masterpiece she called "Exasperated Hottie." Miguel and Tulio used to hate this particular facial expression; mostly because she often wore it in reaction to something stupid they did. It had been awhile since they caught up. She should reach out to them some time, invite them out for drinks. Get them to pay.

Footsteps echoing up the stairs pulled Chel from her thoughts. She straightened, recognizing the Fable based on the tempo and weight behind the figure. Hercules surfaced, as a mountain of a man if she ever met one, made up mostly of muscle and virtually no body fat. He was easily the most chiseled person she had ever met, and honestly, she would be intimidated if not for the fact that he had a friendly, innocent expression accompanied with the brightest of blue eyes, happy to meet everyone and anyone. He was a nice guy, but on the slow side, and Chel had a hard time feeling intimidated by those she knew she could outwit.

"Morning, Chel," Hercules greeted as he stepped onto the floor. In three easy strides he had past her and had the handle of the door in his grasp. "You headed in?" He opened the door, and held it so she could pass first. The sounds of sparring rang from inside.

"Mhm." Chel lightly bowed her head and thanked him before entering. She hoped the wait wasn't going to be too much longer: she really needed to get back to Yen Sid.

(Come and rest your bones with me)

"Do you really have to wake up early?" Jim asked from behind the wheel. The air conditioning was high in the confines of his BMW, but what he was really enjoying was how tufts of Elsa's hair fluttered in response. She batted her eyes, more to combat the air in her face than for any appeal, but it still drew his attention.

"Yes." She shook her head. "Even if we're leaving late to skip traffic, there's still paperwork and scheduling I want to verify before leaving for the week." She gave him a sardonic smile. "So waking at 5:30 AM it is."

Jim whistled. "Yikes." While he had plenty of experience in rising early courtesy of work, living on ships, and studying at the Academy, and his own current schedule, he still considered himself a night owl at heart. The idea of anyone having to get up early induced his sympathies.

"That's why I'm packing after this." Elsa lightly gestured between the two of them. "As opposed to later tonight."

"Are you going to try calling again?" Jim asked.

Despite keeping his attention on the road he could feel her troubled energy. "Yes." A disgruntled pause followed. A week of emails, texts, and phone calls remained unanswered. It was as if the Farm was nonexistent. Fable City Hall occupants had been too busy themselves to pick up on it until yesterday. Jim could tell Elsa found it as off-putting as he did, if not more. "It's weird they haven't responded."

"Very weird," he agreed. They stopped at a red light. Jim turned to Elsa, noticing how she kept her hands clenched together. "Hey." He reached out to her lap, resting his right hand on top of hers. Her skin was soft, yet slightly chilled. Considering the temperature outside, he found it refreshing. "It has nothing to do with …" _The Great Conqueror_. She met his eyes and he could see the fear that had been rising. "The Seventh Floor would know, North would know, Gru would know … _We_ would know."

"I know, you're right." Elsa pressed her lips together, no less relaxed. She gestured ahead of them. "It's green."

Jim sat up as he hit the gas pedal, but stayed his hand on hers.

"This isn't the first time they've given us radio silence. What was it, ten years ago Hiccup flew to Peru?" Jim said. Elsa laughed at the memory and he grinned, encouraged. "This is nothing new. For all we know, he's left again and no one has thought to contact us. Fables get caught up in the Farm bubble up there."

"Fables are caught up in the _Fabletown_ bubble down here."

Jim nodded. "Right. This is nothing new. Save your concerns until you get there. And if you want…" He glanced at her as he spoke. "I'll come down with you."

Elsa smiled and cupped Jim's hand between her own. "I couldn't ask you to do that. You're plenty busy as it is."

"It's really no problem," he said.

Jim glanced over again and Elsa was looking directly at him, with an expression that made his stomach flip. "You're sweet," she said.

He grinned despite himself and faced forward. If he hadn't had centuries of flying and driving vehicles under his belt, he'd be concerned with how much she was distracting him.

"But you're probably right." Elsa sighed. "I'm overthinking things. If you came down as well, they may get the impression we don't trust them to do their jobs."

Jim privately thought they clearly _weren't_ doing their jobs, considering their communication was slacking, but he kept it to himself. Helpful comments only. "Makes sense. You'll just have to tell me all about it Saturday."

"Saturday?"

"When I pick you up for our second date." Again Jim glanced at her, gauging her reaction. He caught surprise in her eyes but no displeasure. The opposite, in fact.

"I thought _this_ was our second date," Elsa said with a smirk.

"Uh, no. That was solving a crime," Jim said. He saw her building up ahead and began to slow the vehicle. The number of Fables walking about had increased since he was last here, and those close (and nosy) enough to see inside were curious to find Elsa in his car.

Elsa removed the hand on top of his to reach for her purse resting on the floor. Jim noted the design was Kate Spade – and saved that information for later. "You _acted_ like it was a date."

Jim intertwined his fingers with hers. "As if I'd pass up the chance." He turned into the parking lot behind her building and found a space open in guest parking. When he finally put the car in park he found her pink in the face. She reddened when she noticed him looking. He couldn't help feeling smug.

"I still say it counts as a date," Elsa said, her tone quiet yet firm, her eyes not leaving his.

"Fine." Jim unbuckled, and the metal smacked against his seat as the safety belt rolled up behind him. He used his grip on her hand to gently guide her forward. He leaned in, inches from her flushed face. "It was a date."

He kissed her.

(and I never want to leave)

 **a/n:** Apologies for the long break, and for the not-that-much-happening chapter. The first is courtesy of life and a computer I had to replace and losing _all_ files from my previous computer. That was a sad day. The second, well, sometimes less action-packed chapters are necessary for the continuation of a story. I hope you all like it regardless, and despite the Jim and Elsa. I promise, this ends with her and Jack together! Anyways, I look forward to hearing from you all, and seeing you next time ;)


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